


Fade

by Jujukind, supercasey



Series: Eddsworld Monster Apartments AU [3]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 56,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jujukind/pseuds/Jujukind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercasey/pseuds/supercasey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Tord share a fair bit of history before they make their ways into Edd's life. Not all of it is bad, but not all of it is good.</p><p>(Prequel story for the TomTord relationship in the Monster Apartments AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read 'More than You Bargained for' before this one, we recommend it! While this fic does take place chronologically before that one, MtYBf is best read with all the surprises!

“Everyone, on the ground and hands where I can see ‘em!” Tord orders, his voice ringing through the bank with such a level of viciousness that a few passersby break into tears.

Automatically, all of the civilians inside start getting down, too afraid to step up against their enforcers. Tord smirks at the sight from behind his black mask, entire body quivering with excitement at their fear. “Very good… now nobody get any silly ideas about playing the hero. If no one acts up, then no one dies. Boys,” Tord turns to his two accomplices, nodding at them. “Gather for me a generous donation from our audience… any jewelry or cash you find will do nicely.”

The two men nod, and begin going to all of the civilians, collecting their valuables and money into burlap sacks. “Now that that’s out of the way…” Tord trails off, turning, ready to address the bank’s clerk, when he notices a civilian still standing. “Hey! You! On the ground!” He shouts, but the guy doesn’t look up, not hearing Tord over the music coming from his earbuds. Tord groans, stomping over to the short man. He grabs ahold of the earbuds, yanking them out with a snarl. “I’m talking to you, asshole!” He shouts, now in the kid’s ear, making him jump.

“Hey-” But he pauses, looking Tord up and down with icy blue eyes, before he snorts out a laugh, giving the bankrobber’s claws, mask, and horns a funny look. “Isn’t it a little early for halloween, dude?” 

Tord snarls, trying to make himself look even taller- it’s not really necessary, considering the fact that the asshole is already a shrimp compared to him. “Shut up,” Tord finally orders, after his embarrassingly long pause. “You think you’re hot shit, kid? You think you’re funny?”

“Well,” The kid starts, before he bursts into laughter upon seeing Paul and Patryk’s masks. “Holy crap, what are they wearing!?” Both men have their usual get up on, which, unfortunately include cartoon-y wolf masks. “They look like fucking furries,” He wheezes, glancing up at Tord, smirking at the horns on his head and at the tail behind him. “You kinda look like a furry too, now that I’m lookin’ at ya.”

Tord’s entire face twitches in irritation. “Alright, wise-guy,” The demon growls, grabbing ahold of the short fucker by the hair. In the background, he hears a woman begin to cry in sympathy for the kid. “What’s your name?”

The guy hesitates, sneering through his pain at the masked demon. Tord takes his sidearm and holds it under his jaw, using it as a means of persuasion, and the kid swallows, before sighing. “It’s Tom.” He mutters, looking anywhere but at Tord.

“Well, Tommy,” Tord curls out the nickname, internally grinning when Tom glares up at him in response. “It seems you really like to run your mouth, huh? Looks like you’re the perfect person for this job...”

Tom’s eyes widen in panic, before Tord steers him towards the front counter, slowly walking the kid over at gunpoint. “Now, Tom, you are going to ask the nice lady behind the counter for all of the money in the bank, okay?” He explains, patting Tom on the shoulder.

Tom actually sighs with relief, before he seems to settle and- shit, the way his shoulders tense but he has a forced relaxed expression… He’s probably about to try something. Tom taps on the window separating him from the clerk. The poor girl behind the desk is shaking, but so long as she can still get the money, Tord doesn’t much care how she feels. “Yeah, uh, hi,” Tom mumbles to the girl, and Tord groans internally. He’s gonna say something stupid, isn’t he? “Can I get a dick taco?” Yep.

In one swift motion, Tord bangs the kid’s head into the desk, making the woman scream in terror. With a fist holding Tom’s hair, Tord pulls the kid back up, savoring the sight of blood leaking from the fucker’s nose. “You see what happens when you’re a shameless smartass? You get hurt. Now-”

“Boss!” Paul jogs over to Tord, a note of concern in his voice. “The police are here; someone must have made the call!”

“Dammit,” Tord growls, before he glares down at Tom. “You hear that, kiddo? The police are on their way to save all these people. It’s really too bad that you won’t be here to see them,” He quickly walks him over to Patryk. “Restrain him.” He orders, handing Tom off to the wolf.

Patryk takes Tom from Tord, trying to keep the kid’s struggles under control, but Tom is much more stubborn than he would’ve thought. “Knock him out.” Tord hisses, after watching Patryk struggle to hold Tom still.

Without hesitation the wolf follows orders, clocking him in the back of the head with his gun. Tom slumps forward automatically, consciousness leaving him as he passes out. Swiftly, Patryk ties his arms behind him and throws Tom over his shoulder, giving him a soft pat on the back to make sure he’s secure. Tord nods in approval and looks up at the ceiling, wings appearing and flapping as he smirks at the glass above his head. He motions Paul and Patryk over, and after they grab ahold of him, he takes off, crashing through the window and off into the daylight. Below, he can hear civilians and police officers gasping and screaming at the sight of him. It fills him with a lust for more.

Without a word, Tord takes off with his crew and hostage in tow, flying off to take shelter in one of the safe houses until this all blows over.

…

It doesn’t take long for them to get to a good hideout. They end up settling at one of their places that’s just outside the city. With all the valuables and cash they picked up during the heist, it would probably be best to lie low for a week or two.

As soon as the four of them land, Paul and Patryk efficiently work to unload all of their spoils, leaving Tord to deal with their unexpected hostage. Fuck, Tord thinks, looking down at the man in his arms. He’s got a young face, but the way he held himself back there makes the Norwegian think he’s probably older than he looks. Just barely 20? He silently curses himself for letting his temper get the better of him; they really didn't need to take a hostage today.

Tord sighs, bringing the limp body into the house. Paul and Patryk look up at his entrance, both moving to stand at attention as soon as they see their leader. “Lighten up, guys,” Tord groans, shifting back into his human form as he steps inside so his wings don’t fill the entire room. They both nod and return to their work, but Paul spares a quick glance at the unconscious man in his arms. 

“Boss, if you don't mind me asking-” He starts, but he cuts himself off when he sees the glare Tord throws him.

“‘Lighten up’ isn't an invitation to question my authority,” The demon hisses, and Patryk turns and creases his brow at the way he’s speaking to his significant other. Tord rolls his eyes and sets Tom down in a chair at the dinner table, checking that his restraints are secure. He doesn't move to reprimand either of his men, instead opting to look over their food storage. Plenty for a couple weeks, but surely Paul will want to get some fresh meat and veg for proper meals.

Both wolves are looking at him, he can feel their eyes on his back and he hates it. He hates their concern. Patryk speaks up, and Tord barely tilts his head to acknowledge the Polish man. “Sir, you know I respect your authority,” He says it almost like a question, so Tord nods, refusing to look either of them in the eyes. “We’ve never taken a hostage before. We’re… worried this might not be the best course of action. What if his family or friends call?”

He nods, understanding their worry, but he can't bare himself to admit he made a mistake when he told them to grab the guy. Instead, he smiles wide, finally turning to face his friends. “And that’s exactly what we want!” The two exchange confused glances but Tord doesn't falter. “If they call his phone we can ransom him off! A fellow who looks like this surely has a significant other, or at least a few people pining after him.” Paul nods right away but Patryk hesitates a moment before agreeing.

Tord’s smile widens, and he turns to Tom, still unconscious. “We can throw him in the basement; I can install some bars to make a sort of cell for him later tonight. It shouldn't take long,” The demon internally pats himself on the back for his quick thinking. “You two can make sure he stays fed and healthy. If we want the most amount of money we can get for him we should keep him in top condition.”

Paul smiles, putting his fingers up in salute. “Yes sir, Red Leader,” He seems excited now, and Tord knows that if his tail was out it would be wagging. “Should I prepare dinner for all of us as soon as we finish post-heist maintenance?” The dogs both look at him expectantly and he nods. They really didn't have to ask to do anything, but they always did because of their stupid pack dynamics… How Tord defaulted to alpha, he’ll never know.

“I'm going to get started on that cell,” The demon throws a worried glance at Tom, who’s still passed out and restrained. Had he moved? Tord eyes him suspiciously up and down. “Make sure you boys keep an eye on our guest here, though. As soon as he shows any sign of consciousness, I want to know.” His men make affirmative grunts and he nods, descending into the basement to get the prisoner’s new quarters ready. 

…

It isn't a few hours later before Patryk is downstairs too, informing Tord that supper is almost finished. “Looks like there is still quite a bit you have to go on the cell. What should I do with the prisoner?” The leader hums in thought, wiping his work-worn hands on his pants. 

“Leave him tied up at the table. We’ll have our meal and if he wakes up we’ll continue eating. Depending on how much sass he pulls, he can eat after us, or he can sit on the floor.” Patryk nods and gives a quick ‘yes, sir,’ before heading back up. 

Tord looks to his work nervously, doubt weighing on his shoulders. He’s being brash, he knows it, and he’s just digging himself deeper with this whole hostage thing. But, He grits his teeth when he thinks about how those icy blue eyes mocked him. _I’m not about to let anyone think they have the better of me, especially in front of my men._

A little more working on the cell and the smells of Paul’s finished meal begin drifting down in his workspace. Tord decides to take a break for now, setting down his tools and making his way upstairs after Patryk.

Paul is stirring a pot on the stove and fiddling with a hot pan at the same time, instructing the other wolf on how to set the table for him. When he spots Tord, though, he smiles and shuts off the stove burners. “Sir, would you mind getting silverware?” The demon nods his head and shuffles over to the proper drawer, glancing at their ‘guest’.

He’s still unconscious, so Tord only gets enough cutlery for him and his boys, setting them in their respective spots. The demon takes his seat at the head of the table, with a passed out Tom on his right and Patryk settling himself down just to the left of him. Paul doesn’t seem perturbed that the prisoner is in his usual spot, and once he’s got the meal in the middle for everyone to dig into he takes a seat next to his boyfriend.

Tord says a quick word of thanks to his friend for making the food, somehow managing to create a gourmet-level stew from the meager rations they had in stock. The trio sit in companionable silence, eating happily and taking a moment to relax after their long day.

The quiet is interrupted by a loud groan, though, as Tom comes to. Tord smiles brightly, refilling his bowl as he watches the restrained man squint up at him. “Look here, boys,” He says it around the spoon in his mouth, delighting in Tom’s obvious disapproval. “Somebody decided to finally wake up.”

It’s a good feeling, Tord decides, when you’ve got someone under your thumb. It takes but a moment for Tom to get out of the foggy-headedness and realize the situation he’s in, eyes darting back and forth from his captors to the door and the room he’s in. The smallest traces of panic come from his movements, and he flexes his shoulders against the rope that binds his arms. 

“Ugh,” The captured man grunts, stretching his back as if trying to get a kink out. Tord wouldn’t be surprised if he was sore from being unconscious for the last few hours. A final huff, before he’s leaning back in the chair and eyeing Tord with the same bored expression he had at the bank. “Well this fucking blows.” He grumbles and Tord grins again, all toothy and giddy. 

Both Paul and Patryk have been on edge as soon as Tom started moving, so Tord relaxes (hoping it’ll get _them_ to calm down) by pulling out a cigar and lighting it. The brunet glares at him, so he takes a long drag and blows it in his face, delighting in his displeasure from the smoke. “Maybe next time you’ll know to not fuck with someone who has a gun to your head,” Tom looks away, rolling his eyes, but Tord continues as if he didn’t. “People who have guns in banks don’t usually fuck around, you know.”

“...Whatever,” He shifts in his seat, ice-blue eyes turning to oggle the good smelling meal in front of him, corner of his lips quirking up. “So, if you guys are keeping me tied up like this, were you planning on feeding me?” Tord’s grin falters. He could not figure out how, despite all the reasons to be afraid, that this ‘Tom’ can find his quick wit so easily. 

It’s not like the humans Tord knows. 

He’s about to chew his prisoner out for being so smart mouthed, but before he can get a word out, there’s a knife pointed at him. _That would explain a few things_ , he thinks, shifting a glare to Patryk. The werewolf avoids his gaze nervously, understanding his mistake in not checking their hostage for weapons.

“Okay,” Tom grumbles, standing up and kicking his chair away. His eyes dart from Tord to his men as he speaks coldly. “We’re gonna do this my way.” Tord nods slowly, and even the slightest movements make Tom shift his eyes forward quickly to face him. 

Tord smirks. “Okay.” He drawls out, taking the cigar from his mouth and standing up, eyes trained on Tom the entire time. The smaller man brandishes the knife but Tord doesn’t even flinch.

“Sit down, motherfucker.” He hisses with venom, but Tord doesn’t move, instead stepping forward into Tom’s space, making the smaller step back. Tord hears Paul growl when Tom doesn’t back down, but stops when Tord snaps his fingers together.

“Boys,” He says calmly, gaze unwavering from Tom’s. “It’s fine; we’re doing this his way.” He takes his cigar and puts it out on his palm, smirk stretching when Tom’s face pales. In mere seconds, the skin on Tord’s hand seems to shimmer, fading to reveal black claws and scales. 

Tom steps back, eyes wide and fearful. “What the fuck!” Out of terror, he lunges forward with his knife. Easily, Tord shifts his weight to the side and Tom’s blade only swipes through air. Tord grabs hold of both of his arms, using his surprise to pull Tom into being restrained again. “What-” Tom gasps and struggles, shaking his entire body in an effort to get away. “Get off me!”

“Shouldn’t have done that, kid,” Tord laughs into his ear, holding him effortlessly with one hand and patting him down for any other concealed weapons with another. He comes back empty handed and spins Tom around, red eyes glowing brightly. The smaller man just stares up at them, trying violently to get away from his aggressor. 

“ _Relax_ ,” His voice is sweet and calm, almost raspy, in a way. Tom’s struggling slows down exponentially as Tord speaks. “Take it easy, will ya?” And almost instantly, Tom’s out like a light, collapsing into the demon’s arms.

The demon sighs, allowing himself a moment to hold the man in his arms, enjoying the light thrum of energy he gets from the physical contact. Paul and Patryk look at him with worry, but he simply shoots the pair a harsh look. 

“How could both of you forget to check him for weapons?” At least both have the decency to look a little remorseful. Tord huffs and shifts back into his human appearance, shaking his head slightly when the familiar weight of horns is gone. Within moments he’s got the sleeping man restrained again, and he’s set him back in the chair. “I’m going to finish getting his cell set. Keep your eyes on him.” His men nod and he descends back into the basement. 

...

There’s little complication for the next couple of days. The police force has all but stopped their fervent search for Tord and his boys, so they’re able to go back out and get whatever essentials they may need with little worry. Their prisoner wasn’t very communicative, or at least, he wasn’t with Tord. Paul offhandedly mentioned he got Tom to talk a little bit about something or other, but Tom was flat out refusing to speak to Tord at all. 

And if this weren’t troubling enough, not a single phone call or text has been received on Tom’s phone since he’s been captured. Tord was able to figure out the password to the device after a fair bit of fiddling, and they’d been making sure to keep the cell charged the entire time. Despite always having someone nearby it, and making sure there would be no complications in answering the device should it ring, it stays silent the entire time.

It’s only been a few days, though, so Tord surmises that Tom’s family is probably attempting to contact the authorities first, before calling.

To top it all off, Tom hasn’t shown any inclination that he understands what his captors are. He acts as if Tord never revealed his unnatural eyes or ebony black horns and claws; it’s likely that due to him being put under, he may not remember all of what happened after he pulled the knife, or he might be pushing the idea of the supernatural away. A lot of humans seemed to do this as some sort of defense mechanism, but Tord couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Not as if it really mattered to Tord; it just made certain situations or interactions with the man much more irritating. The full moon was fast approaching, and with it, Paul and Patryk would be gone for about three days, leaving Tord alone with the hostage. To say he wasn’t looking forward to it was an understatement.

“Red Leader,” Paul addresses him while he writes down a few things he intends on packing for their trip. “I’m sure everything in regards to the prisoner will be fine. Just,” He waves his hand in a vague hand gesture. “Y’know?” 

Tord huffs, leaning against the doorway while the werewolves commence their final preparations for the full moon. “No, I do not ‘know’,” He mimics the Dutch accent of his friend, only slightly different form his Norwegian one. “I don’t know why he seems to like you two so much more than me,” Patryk comes in from outside, giving Tord a funny look. “What?” 

“Nothing, sir,” The taller man grins. “It just might have something to do with how you were the one who kidnapped him in the first place.” Paul tries to keep a straight face but has to turn away to hide his grin. Tord pouts and narrows his eyes at the wolves.

“Whatever,” He grumbles, and looks down at his feet. A quick glance of concern is shared between the other two and they silently shift into their wolf forms, walking up to their leader and licking at his hands, whimpering in consolement. Tord fights to keep the pout on his face but fails. He twiddles his fingers through their soft fur and smiles a little nervously. “Do you guys really have to leave?”

Paul looks up at him sadly and licks his hands once more. Tord sighs and doesn’t force them to answer, knowing that they’ll stay with him if he really wants them to, but knowing also that these trips mean so much to them.

“It’s fine, guys.” He promises, scratching under their chins thoughtfully. Pat and Paul both press their fluffy bodies against his legs, putting their weight on him in an attempt to console him.

Paul and Patryk stay with Tord for a while longer, before they both linger off to continue preparing for their trip, staying either in full-shift or half-shift at all times; whether it’s because of the upcoming full moon or the tension, Tord isn’t sure. With a sigh, the demon stands up, feeling unsure as he glances at the door leading to the basement. Making up his mind, Tord exits the kitchen through the oak door, footsteps quiet as he makes his way downstairs. Tom is wide awake in bed, the scent of sweat strong in the room. Tord wrinkles his nose at the smell, finding it unnerving; why is Tom sweating down here? It’s not even warm!

“Ey, knucklehead,” Tord’s voice is gruff as he addresses Tom. “Get your ass up. We need to talk.”

Tom spares Tord a sour glance, looking unimpressed with the demon’s presence. Reluctantly, the prisoner stands, leaving his bed behind as he leans on one of the cell’s walls, giving him a look that could rival a fucking teenager. It irritates Tord to no end. “I know you’re not going to bother talking to me, so I’ll skip the small talk; Paul and Patryk are leaving for a few days,” That makes Tom’s eyes widen, a flash of fear on his face at the news. “Ey, I’ll still be here, dumbass. We’re not leaving you to rot. It will just be us for a weekend, alright?”

Tom only shrugs, still refusing to reply verbally to Tord. “Anything to say? Even some backtalk?” Tord prods, eager to get Tom talking. He REALLY doesn’t want to spend his weekend in silence, or else he’ll die of boredom.

The prisoner, again, looks ready to stay silent. However, his eyes linger on Tord’s T-shirt, appearing… curious. “You like San Fermin?” He asks, pointing at Tord’s band T-shirt.

Tord blinks, before glancing down at his shirt. It’s one he got from an old friend, the design being a jackrabbit with it’s head cut off. “I’ve listened to some of their songs, yes. Do you… like music?” He’s a little nervous now to speak to Tom; one wrong move and he’ll have Tom back to giving him the silent treatment.

However, it seems that Tord’s spoken correctly, because for a moment, Tom’s eyes light up. He’s quick to cover it, but the young man fully facing Tord as he begins to speak again. “Yes! Who doesn’t? I’m more of a rock sorta guy, but gosh, you should hear some of the tunes from these guys if you like San Fermin,”

And Tord stands there for a while, just listening to Tom talk about music, but eventually he finds himself sitting on the cold floor next to the cell. Hell, Tord even uses his phone a few times to play some of Tom’s suggests tunes, and yeah, the kid has good taste alright. It’s nice, Tord thinks, once Tom has tired himself out and excused himself for the night. It’s nice to talk to someone who won’t hesitate to say what’s on their mind to him. While Paul and Patryk are good company, they’re also extremely polite with him, making smalltalk more awkward than Tord would like. But with Tom, talking is easy. It’s almost… comforting.

Tord sighs, shrugging it off. He can’t start liking the prisoner; within a few weeks, he’ll be ransomed off to his loved ones or his friends, and Tord will never see him again. It will be better, at that point, Tord tells himself… it will be better than getting attached.

…

A knock at the door later that night surprises Tord. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and it’s still another night before the full moon, so Paul and Patryk are likely not returning home so soon. “Coming!” He says anyways, moving the pan he was stirring off the burner and turning the stove off. When he opens the door, though, he’s greeted with a fist that sends him towards the ground. 

“Well, if it isn’t good ol’ Tordy!” The voice calls and he groans, peeling himself off the kitchen floor enough to sit up. “All by yourself tonight?” 

Tord puts a hand up to smear the blood off his nose. He glares up at his aggressor and finds that, while it’s pretty obvious that this is another demon, he has no idea who she personally is. “Sorry, but who the fuck are you?”

Bitchface creases her brow at the lack of fear in his face and bares her sharp teeth. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter who I am, but... “ She trails off and gestures to her back, smiling down at the Incubus when he grimaces. “Whelps like you ought not to be far from home.” Tord simply rolls his eyes. 

“Still not scared?” her hands and forehead shimmer, revealing her horns and claws. “We can fix that.” She lunges forward with claws and sharp horns angled forward, but Tord scrambles out of the way just in time as she lands and sticks her horns straight through the linoleum. She hisses and pulls herself out effortlessly.

“If this is about McShit Lord himself, he can fuck right off.” Tord shouts and backs up towards the stove, allowing his own claws and horns to become present. The other demon just laughs, standing up at her full height, towering a good handful of inches over Tord. 

“It’s going to happen eventually,” Tord shakes his head and she advances, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. Despite him clawing at her arms she doesn’t even flinch, instead smirking when she pulls him up off the ground to meet her gaze. “They’re going to drag you back down to Hell no matter how bad you want to stay. And do you know why? Because you’re nothing but your rank and title. You’re nothing but a shitty little Incubus that can’t even do what he was made for-”

Tord’s had it. He lets out a loud screech, using the strength that the physical contact with her gives him to kick at her stomach and knock all the wind out of her. Her hold on him loosens and when he lands on the ground he reaches back and grabs the hot pan from the stove, ignoring the food that falls to the floor as he smashes the hot metal against her face.

She shouts, humane voice turning into something warped and animalistic as she shifts her body into a full demon form. Her face is replaced with a long, angular skull and three pairs of horns extend like a crown around her head. An extra pair of arms sprout from her sides as her body warps and she lets out a long, throaty laugh.

Tord’s about to shift too, but a loud crack from the basement makes him freeze. The demon doesn’t miss it, extending her long neck to try and see down the stairwell. She turns back, smiling wickedly at the Incubus before charging down to the basement in search of Tom. 

“No!” Tord shouts, shifting into his full form and smashing his wings against the walls as he rushes forward. He grabs one of her legs and yanks it towards him, biting down hard on her neck when she’s underneath him. She screams, though it’s so guttural it doesn’t even sound close to human.

Tom’s voice is muffled through the door to the basement but he’s shouting, asking questions and calling out. Tord would attempt to calm him down, but his maw is currently preoccupied with biting the shit out of this bitch.

She attempts to roll him, but he uses his wings and tail to keep them where they are on the ground and eventually her screams turn to whimpers and yelps. A quick shift of his wings and arms and he throws himself over her head, landing in front of the door and looking her down, red orbs in his eye sockets unwavering. 

“Get. Out.” He growls, and she whimpers, dragging herself out the door with a limp. Tord stays where he is and attempts to calm himself, but when Tom’s shuffling picks back up on the other side he shakes himself back down to his human form. Just in time apparently, because Tom throws the door open right behind him. 

“Tord!” He exclaims, not expecting to see the man on the other side. The Norwegian is breathing heavily, and he’s sure he looks like a mess. What, with his bloody nose and scratches all up and down his arms from the scuffle. 

“What are you doing out of your cell?” He doesn’t bother to put any venom into it, instead leaning his weight against the wall beside him, since that’s way easier than standing right now. Tom’s mouth gapes for a moment, taking in the demon’s appearance as he struggles to think of an excuse.

“Jeez, you look like shit,” Tord’s brow creases in annoyance, but Tom continues, “What happened? I heard screaming and a lot of thumping.” It’s the first time Tord’s seen the human look genuinely concerned. His hand extends to touch a particularly bad cut on his face, but Tord leans away, not wanting to give in to his desire for physical contact. He’ll be fine after a few hours, he just needs to calm down and- 

Tom is really close, all of a sudden, and there’s no more room to back up without heading up the stairs. “Dinner,” He says dumbly, and Tom raises an eyebrow. “I dropped a pan, uh. On my face, so, dinner might take a while to get ready.” The raised eyebrow becomes a severely unimpressed look. Tom sighs through his nose and rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever.” He grumbles, and storms back towards his cell. It doesn’t take long before Tord is following him. The cell door has been picked open, a couple of broken bobby pins sitting on the floor around it. Tom goes and just sits on his bed, crossing his arms and glaring at Tord.

Tord narrows his own eyes. “Where’d you get the bobby pins?” Tom shrugs and the Norwegian hisses, annoyed that he’s back to square one with the human. He hates that he can’t get those concerned eyes out of his head, even when he climbs the stairs and gets himself back to making supper. 

…

It’s a few days before Paul and Pat get back, finally. Tom and Tord have hardly spoken since that first day, and Tord has had to walk around the house with bandages on his face and around his side. He’s very rarely had to live with physical pain without almost immediate healing, so it was more than a little uncomfortable. 

The Norwegian did his best to patch up the kitchen, after his brawl with the bitch that came in and acted like she owns the place. The hole in the linoleum is a little hard to cover up, though, so when the werewolves return and are gathered around the dent, Tord does his best to seem sheepish.

“Sir,” Patryk starts, looking at the crack remorsefully. “What exactly happened to my floor?” Tord scratches the back of his neck nervously. 

“Well, you see-” But Paul cuts him off with a small gasp, upon the wolf seeing his face.

He drops his bags and hops up the two steps leading into the dining area. “What happened?” He whimpers, and immediately looks downstairs, towards Tom’s quarters. 

Patryk is almost immediately at his side as well, cupping Tord’s face to examine the cuts. Tord leans into the contact with a small sigh, appreciating greatly the energy he receives from it. 

“It wasn’t Tom or anything. Just,” He waves his hands a little. “Some asshole of a demon came in here acting like she owned the place. Just had to teach her a lesson.” Paul is whimpering again and Tord laughs. “I’ve had worse, you know?” 

Both wolves nod but their concern still shows through their words. Patryk speaks up. “Does Tom know what happened? Does he know you’re a demon?” Tord shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. Unless he knows from before, when I knocked him out, I don’t think he knows exactly. He seems suspicious of me, though,” He sighs, still upset that Tom refuses to be civil with him.

“Leader,” Pat soothes, lightly tapping the Norwegian’s back in an attempt to calm him. “You can’t expect him to open up if you keep him locked up like he is.” Tord nods, though he doesn’t respond.

This hostage thing got way out of hand.

...

It’s been a few weeks since Tom’s been with them, now, and still, nobody has called. Tord finds himself staring anxiously at the offending piece of technology, willing it to just ring and get this whole thing over with. The way that Paul constantly visits the brunet and the way Patryk is always going out of his way to make his cell more comfortable or to help him out… it’s going to make things hard to let him go if Tom’s folks don’t get him soon.

Tord’s looked at the same contacts in the phone over and over again, but they all read off as hospitals or doctors, and those were people with too many resources: if they called for Tom it was probably going to end badly for Tord and his boys.

“Paul,” He hisses in the middle of the night, when the werewolf is heading down to give Tom his supper. The Dutchman turns to him, questioningly, and Tord thrusts the phone in his hands. “I need you to figure out why Tom’s friends and family haven’t called. We can’t…” He heaves a breath through his nose in embarrassment. “We can’t keep doing this.” He finally admits.

This is his mistake. If he hadn’t been so brash, so reckless- Tom wouldn’t be in this fucked up situation, and neither would his wolves. This was as bad for them as everybody else involved.

Paul nods, understanding and smiling wide at the Norwegian in hopes of reassuring him.

Tord watches from the stairwell as Paul walks down into the basement, Tom’s phone held tight in his palm. The werewolf pauses in front of the small man’s cell, giving Tord a chance to stare past him at the young figure. Tom’s sprawled out on his bed, looking for the life of him like a corpse, with dark bags under his eyes and a sickness about him that makes Tord’s insides twist in discomfort. Paul knocks on one of the bars of the cell, prompting Tom to look up. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice Tord hiding in the stairwell as he crawls out of the bed, coming over to stand in front of Paul, movements wobbly and tired.

“You look sick,” Paul comments, giving Tom a surprised look. Tom doesn’t answer so Paul holds up his phone, facing the screen towards the captive. “Tom, why hasn’t your family called your phone yet? It’s been three weeks.”

Tom stiffens, and Tord subconsciously leans forward, trying to catch every word that Tom will utter. Said brunet looks away from Paul, appearing upset. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Tom orders, body stiff.

Paul reaches out, before pausing and withdrawing his hand. “Tom, there has to be a reason,” He continues, trying to get an answer out of the short man. “I’m sure your parents-”

“-Don’t even know I exist,” Tom finishes, glaring up at Paul, eyes bloodshot and glassy from unshed tears. “No one’s called because I _have_ no one. I grew up in the system, dumbass. No one cares about where I am,” He starts shaking slightly, taking a seat on the floor to steady himself, voice wavering. “No one will care when Thomas Redwood drops dead…”

Tord sighs internally; no wonder no one has called. Meanwhile, Paul squirms in front of the cell, before stiffening and apparently coming to a decision. With assured movements, Paul unlocks the cell door and, very cautiously, walks inside. Looking unsure now, Paul crouches by Tom, seemingly uncomfortable as the brunet cries beside him. The werewolf carefully reaches out, and ever so delicately, wraps his arms around Tom, pulling the short man closer until Paul backs up into the nearest wall, hugging Tom against himself. The taller man stays like that with Tom for a long time, patting his back and petting his hair.

“Daar daar,” Paul murmurs in Dutch, nuzzling Tom’s hair a little as the younger man sobs, finally breaking under all the stress and confusion. "Maak je geen zorgen , ik ben hier."

Tom nods, although Tord suspects that he has no idea what Paul’s saying. He knows he, himself, doesn’t, since the only language all three of the robbers share is Russian, but he can fairly easily imagine. Tord watches for a little longer, before he reluctantly trudges off, leaving Paul to comfort Tom until he can calm down. He does not need to be getting soft… but Tom is making that very difficult.

…

“What’s he doing out of his cell?”

Tord looks up as Patryk addresses Paul, raising an eyebrow when he sees that the tall man has decided to bring Tom upstairs. Tord eyes the younger man’s movements, noting how Tom lingers close to Paul’s side, as if afraid that Tord or Patryk will jump him otherwise. Clever, Paul- Tord thinks as he watches Tom stick close to the werewolf- use the kid’s fear to your advantage to keep him from running. Of course, knowing Paul, Tord assumes he’s trying to make him feel safe, instead of being manipulative. Tord is knocked out of his thoughts when Paul grunts, shrugging as he steers Tom towards the dinner table. 

Patryk raises an eyebrow at Paul’s grunt, giving Tord a curious look, looking to see if the demon will do anything about it. Tord simply shrugs when all eyes are on him, pretending to be more focused on his newspaper. “Just keep an eye on him. I don’t want him running away.” He deadpans, tone business-like and authoritative.

Paul smirks, and Tord hides his own behind his newspaper. Meanwhile, Tom ducks his head and sits down at the table, scooting his chair away from Tord. Tord rolls his eyes, but otherwise doesn’t make a move to intervene; so long as Tom doesn’t run, he doesn’t care where the fucker sits. Shaking just a bit, Tom curls in on himself slightly, rubbing his arms frantically while Paul cooks dinner a few feet away, the young human’s eyes flashing between Tord and the werewolf in fear.

“Easy, kid,” Tord orders once Tom’s shaking has begun to worry him. “I won’t bite.” He adds the last bit with a smirk, flashing his sharp canines at his prisoner.

Under the table, a different kind of canine kicks Tord hard in the shin. Tord stiffens, hissing under his breath before glaring across the table at Patryk, the wolf mouthing a stern ‘Будьте вежливы’. Tord huffs, ignoring Tom’s snicker beside him. 

Before Tord can really complain though, Paul sets down a plate in front of the monster. Tord blinks, glancing down at his plate curiously- meatloaf. Aware of Tom’s eyes on him, Tord begins eating, noticing how confused Tom looks; the poor kid doesn’t understand pack rules. The leader always eats before the pack- Tord usually wouldn’t do that, but it makes Paul and Patryk a bit more comfortable.

Tord eats quickly, before he finishes and nods to Paul and Patryk. At once, Paul gets up and passes out three more full plates, before taking a seat beside Patryk again. Tom squirms in his seat, possibly out of discomfort, before he takes a few butterfly worthy bites at the food. His face twists in either disgust or fear as he eats, looking anywhere but at Paul, Patryk, and Tord. Tord raises an eyebrow when Tom suddenly pushes his full plate away, the captive pretending to appear overly full.

“Oh wow, guys. That was great,” Tom assures, his tone retaking it’s usual comfortable deadpan that simultaneously annoys and interests Tord. “I’m stuffed, man… couldn’t eat another bite.”

“You’ve hardly touched your meal,” Tord comments, although it sounds more like an order as he puts both hands on the table, feeling smoke smoldering underneath his skin in anger. “You’re skinny enough as it is… eat.”

Tom’s eyes are full of defiance as he glares up at Tord, ocean blue eyes shining with an unexpected frustration. “Don’t you get it? I’m _not_ hungry!” He snaps, angry.

Tord stiffens in surprise at the challenge when Paul steps in. “You should listen to Red Leader, Thomas,” He says, tone soft and kind; he’s trying to play Good Cop here. “Surely you must have room for more.”

Tom stands, furious and misunderstood. “I’m not hungry, goddammit!” He shouts, before stomping downstairs and back to his cell.

Tord sighs deeply, shaking his head. “I’ve got this,” He assures, and when he recieves a look of concern from the couple upon standing up, he rolls his eyes in annoyance. “I am not going to hurt him. For the love of God, I am only meaning to understand what the problem is.”

Paul and Patryk still look doubtful, but Tord ignores them in favor of going after Tom. Tom’s on his bed in his cell, hiding under his blanket when Tord arrives. Sighing, Tord yanks the blanket off, ignoring Tom’s fearful look. However, Tom’s expression soon contorts to one of a rebel, his fury knowing no bounds as he refuses Tord’s eyes to even a sliver of fear. 

Without a word, Tord plops down on the bed beside Tom, ignoring the kid’s angry glares. It makes Tord want to roll his eyes and laugh- Tom acts like a newborn not getting his way. Upset and uncomfortable, Tom refuses to face Tord, scooting away from the man.

Tord doesn’t use any magic tricks this time. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asks, voice calm and collected as he addresses the younger man. 

Tom scowls, looking away. Impatient, Tord grabs Tom’s shoulder. “Thomas,” Tord’s voice is stern, but there’s a softness about him that he hopes Tom will understand and see that he won’t hurt him for being honest. “Tell me what’s wrong. Are you sick?”

Tom squirms, but he doesn’t pull away- Tord can feel Tom’s exhales on his thumb’s knuckle, making him shiver. “I… I’m not okay…” Tom admits after a long pause, looking unsure. When Tord nods for him to continue, he does. “Look, dude, it’s… I have some meds I need, okay? They’re…” He stops again, opting to look at the floor instead of Tord. There’s a soft creak of the bed, and Tord is gone

...

He shouldn’t even be doing this… it’s not like Tord needs to get Tom’s medication, but… He shakes his head, ridding himself of stupid thoughts and growling under his breath as he continues driving towards the address Paul gave him. His place is in the lower districts of the city, it being a small, cheap flat the kid rented out a few months back. Tord finds the meager shack quickly enough, scowling when he sees the disrepair the building is in. Sighing, Tord hops out of his car and walks into the building, using the key they got off Tom to get in once he reaches it.

Immediately, Tord is greeted by an overexcited dog jumping up at him and barking playfully. It’s a Corgi mix, with a brown and white coloring, to be specific. Tord stiffens, looking the animal over in surprise; Tom hadn’t mentioned owning a dog, especially not one as cute as this one. Despite his shock, Tord leans down and smiles, bringing the playful pup up into his arms as he makes to check out Tom’s flat.

The room just past the threshold looks like it’s supposed to be a kitchen, although the only hint to this is the refrigerator in the corner and the sink right next to it, since there’s no stove or tables. A few bags of assorted food have been torn open and devoured messily on the floor, but thankfully (from what he can see) the dog managed to get outside to do its business through the open window just over the sink. The dog wiggles in his arms, so he sets it down and gives it a small pat on its head, then goes looking around the rest of the building.

There are only three other rooms- a bedroom, a bathroom, and a closet. Settling on the bedroom first, Tord swings the door open, smiling at Tom’s dog as it follows him through the apartment. The bedroom is actually pretty clean, compared to the rest of the flat. There’s a small bed with simple bedsheets in the corner, and a beaten old guitar lying on it, just waiting to be played. Stepping inside, Tord heads to Tom’s nightstand first, opening it and digging inside; jackpot. There’s a few pill bottles and medical boxes inside, and Tord reads the labels carefully, trying to find which ones Tom needs to be healthy. 

A slightly larger than palm-sized box reads off as a compound of chemicals, ‘ _Testosterone Propionate, Testosterone Phenylpropionate, Testosterone_ …’ A sudden hit of realization hits Tord like a truck. This explained the lethargy, the nausea, the cold sweats: all the symptoms Paul and Patryk told him Tom was experiencing. They were all due to Testosterone withdrawal. Tord grits his teeth in frustration, furious that Tom hadn’t stressed how important it was that he got his meds earlier. He throws the box in his bag, as well as all the other accessories needed to administer the injection.

A couple bottles read off as anti-depression and anti-anxiety prescriptions, and as he bags all the transitional medication he grabs those, too. He’s about to leave the bedroom with his new-found urgency, but as he heads out something catches his eye. Just barely covered by the pillow on his bed is a small, brown teddy bear. It’s sort of weird, in Tord’s opinion, since it has a unibrow instead of eyes and spiked up hair. Shrugging, Tord shoves the stuffie into his bag, too. May as well bring it along. 

With that settled, Tord turns around to stare down at Tom’s dog. Kneeling in front of the canine, Tord lightly scratches behind its ears, and when it rolls over onto its back and exposes its soft belly, Tord curses his own softness. Without much effort, Tord picks the pooch up and takes it with him out of the apartment.

Once he’s back to his car, Tord puts the dog into the passenger seat, smiling as the canine curls up in the seat and wags its tail happily. Without further delay, Tord hops into the driver’s seat, and with one last look at the apartment complex, he drives back to the hideout.

…

“A dog!”

Tord rolls his eyes as Paul and Patryk get into his shit, both wolves shifting at once upon seeing the corgi in his arms. With a sigh of irritation, Tord sets the wiggling canine on the floor, allowing his boys to sniff at the animal with curiosity. The corgi doesn’t budge, seemingly unaffected by the prodding. Unimpressed by his men’s embarrassing display, Tord carefully steps over the canines, avoiding wagging tails and playful paws as he heads for the basement. As soon as Tord opens the door, he’s assaulted by the strong scent of sickness that Tom’s been radiating these last few weeks.

Well, at least now Tord can put a stop to it. Holding onto the railing, Tord strolls downstairs with little to no problem, his eyes soon finding Tom. The poor guy looks miserable; only his face shows from under a mountain of blankets- they’re more than likely Paul and Patryk’s doing- while his hair is a tangled, spiky mess on his head, dipping slightly from sweat. Tord refuses to make any obvious comments as he faces Tom’s cell, the small man inside looking pitiful in front of the older demon. Knowing that Tord won’t come in first, Tom struggles from under his blankets, soon standing with one of the quilts tucked around his fraile form.

“Hey,” Tom groans, voice groggy and tired. “What’s up, man?” He rubs at his eyes obsessively, something that catches Tord’s eye, forcing the demon to look into those icy blue orbs. It makes his skin heat up and his wings want to flutter in satisfaction.

Tord keeps a handle on it, though. He busies himself with kneeling on the floor and unpacking the backpack, starting with Tom’s medicine. At once, Tom’s wide-awake and alert, even trying to reach through the bars and make a grab for his meds. Biting back a snicker of amusement, Tord smacks Tom’s hand away, tisking under his breath at the human’s behavior. Once Tom has settled, he returns to unpacking the bag, hesitating as he fists the teddy bear, the object still hidden from Tom’s view. It’s softer than Tord first noticed- and small, about Beanie Baby sized. But it has a comforting feel about it… Tord nods to himself, pulling out the bear.

Tord can feel Tom’s heartbeat rise, his eyes widening in surprise. “Tomme Bear!” Tom shouts, overly excited as he stares at the stuffed animal.

This causes Tord to pause. Tomme Bear? He almost laughs, but instead, he puts on a nonchalant smirk and holds the bear out from between the bars. At once, Tom has a hold on the stuffie, his fingers brushing against the back of Tord’s hand. The demon shivers, the contact putting him off kilter, his body wanting nothing more than to hug Tom close. But again, Tord refuses the need, instead deciding to smile warmly as Tom hugs his bear close, reveling in the comfort it brings him. It makes Tord feel… good. Not cuddle-good or after-a-heist good. It’s… something else.

It’s not something too new to Tord, but it’s still uncommon. It’s a feeling he gets when he visits Matt and the other monsters at the apartment building in London, or when he helps a fellow lower-ranked demon get away from one of the higher ups. Tord revels in the feeling, enjoying it for what it is. As Tord snaps out of it, he notices Tom once again trying to get at his medication. Faster than the lanky, short human, Tord catches Tom by his wrist, biting back the warm pulse of energy at the skin-on-skin feeling burning in his bones. Gritting his teeth, Tord spares Tom an annoyed glare, unimpressed by his sneaking.

“You need to get a shower first,” Tord explains, unintentionally rubbing his thumb against the back of Tom’s wrist, feeling the human shiver in response. “You smell like shit and you can’t be clean; taking your meds when you’re gross could be bad for you.”

Tom shrugs, but nods his head. “I guess.” He mumbles, standing himself up on shaky legs. 

Tord stands with him, putting a steadying hand on the small of his back. “Can you make it up there on your own?” Tom nods but stumbles a bit, so Tord walks with him anyway. They climb the stairs slowly, taking it one step at a time in case Tom loses his balance. The house is quiet, and Tord assumes the wolves took the dog outside to play.

When they finally make it to the shower, Tord leaves Tom in the restroom, promising to return soon with a change of clothes and a towel. 

When he returns, the water is on full blast and steam is pouring out from underneath the door, smelling like some kind of scented shampoo. Tord sits himself down against the wall and sighs, tugging his legs into his hoodie.

If he had realized what exactly Tom was going through, maybe he would have helped him sooner. Honestly, though, if he was fucked up enough to take someone hostage, Tord thinks to himself. It isn’t long before the water cuts off and Tom knocks on the door. “Tord?” 

Wordlessly, the demon cracks the door open from where he’s sitting and slides the clothes in, making sure to give Tom his privacy. A few moments of silence are shared as Tom gets himself dressed and Tord sits outside, fiddling with his hoodie anxiously. 

“I’m sorry,” He says to the closed door. The shuffling on the other side stops, so he continues. “This is really fucked up.” He puts his head against his knees and sighs. The door creaks open slowly and Tord looks up, sad, red eyes staring into Tom’s serene blue ones. 

Tom kicks him in the side without warning, though it’s not too hard. “Jackass,” He mutters, though he’s got a half smile on. “Can I take my T now?”

Tord nods and pushes the kit over, thankful he brought it upstairs with the clothes. “Do you need help taking it?” But Tom shakes his head. 

“I’ve been taking T for a few years, now,” He shuffles back into the bathroom and fiddles with the boxes. His hands are shaky and he struggles to open the packaging. “Fuck.”

The demon is at his side quickly, opening the box and pulling out the needles, looking to Tom for instruction. The human sighs but accepts the assistance. “Use this needle to get the Testosterone out,” He points to one, then another. “This one is for the injection. I can inject myself but I need your help getting the meds out.” 

The Norwegian does as the brunet orders. “That’s too much,” Tom comments, making Tord stiffen, but nonetheless empty some back into the bottle until Tom hums in acceptance. “That’s better.”

Tom takes the needle and rolls up one of the legs on his shorts, administering the injection quickly and accepting the disinfectant wipe that’s held out to him with a small ‘thanks’.

Tord pats Tom’s arm, the brunet quickly fixing his shorts. “Who’s my brave little soldier, hm?” He keeps speaking, trying to simultaneously tease and comfort Tom in the aftermath of the injection.

“Fuck off.” Tom growls out, but Tord can feel how grateful the kid is. In a few days- with regular injections- Tom should be back to being his usual sarcastic self, now without the hot flashes and the lethargy.

Tord stands, ready to leave, when he hears a bark from outside. He pauses, smiling as he turns to look at Tom again. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot… I took the liberty of bringing your pooch back, too! You’re welcome.” He states, ready for Tom to praise him for doing such a noble, kind, selfless-

“-What dog?” Tom asks, giving Tord the most confused look he’s ever seen. “I don’t have a dog.”

_Well fuck._

…

After a few more confused questions and answers, Tord discovers that Tom does not own a dog, has never owned a dog, but low-key really wants a dog. And, considering that the corgi doesn’t have a nametag or a collar… Well, fuck the losers who lost him. He’s Tom’s (And the gang’s) dog now.

They name him Hamilton.

…

Tom doesn’t end up going back to the cell after that. He’s allowed to roam the house, but until the criminals decide on what to do with him, he’s essentially stuck there.

“I don’t see why we can’t just let him go back to his home.” Patryk offers, but gets two different expressions from Paul and Tord. The demon knows that Paul got too attached to the small man, after spending so many hours talking with him and taking care of him. Tord won’t admit that he also got used to seeing Tom around the house, so he puts up the guise that he doesn’t want the human to rat them out.

“He could know about what we are,” Tord hisses, narrowing his eyes at the brunet, who is currently sleeping on the couch. “We still have no idea if he knows. Not to mention, he could drop hints to the police as to who we are, in terms of the bank robberies. He could blow both of our covers, if he wanted.” 

Patryk sighs. “You seem quite eager to keep him around, Leader.” Tord stiffens, then looks away. As much as he bragged about being able to read people like books, he hates how hard it is for him to mask his own emotions.

Paul laughs lightly at his commander. “He has a point, sir. Although,” He turns to his boyfriend and huffs. “I would prefer to keep Tom around as well. He could be of use to us, and I have grown fond of him.”

“What do you mean he could be ‘of use to us’?” Tord questions. Patryk makes a vague hand gesture instead of Paul answering.

“He adds a dynamic we don’t really have. Not to mention, we’ve been needing more people for bigger heists.” The other wolf nods enthusiastically, and Tord creases his brow in thought. 

They had been discussing the thought of adding someone to their team. The idea of it being Tom, though. He’s about to question it before Paul butts in. 

“It’s clear that Tom is level headed; when we robbed that bank he hardly flinched at your appearance and the gun you held to his face. Plus,” Paul takes a puff of his cigarette and pulls out a knife from his back pocket. “He did have the courage to pull this on you.”

Tord only nods, fingers tapping on the table in thought.

…

“Tom,” It’s Tord who has to approach him about it. The brunet looks up from his phone, throwing a questioning look at the taller man. He doesn’t bother removing his headphones until a small box is dropped in his lap. It’s wrapped up in blue wrapping paper, a long red ribbon tied around it to make it look a little prettier. 

“It’s… not my birthday?” But Tord shakes his head.

“Just open it.”

Tom shrugs and does as he’s told for once, tearing into the gift with eagerness. Tord fidgets, picking at his nails and looking down expectantly at Tom, hoping he’ll understand the gesture with minimal explanation.

Within moments Tom is pulling out a mask, similar in quality to Tord’s own but looking quite different. The perfectly round mask resembles a classic smiley face, bright yellow and cheery. The human is speechless at first, hands feeling the smooth surface and then wide eyes looking up at Tord.

“Tord, what are you saying with this?” The demon shrugs and looks away.

“Paul and Patryk have been bugging me about getting an additional man for our team. I have a hard time saying no to them…” He admits it and huffs in embarrassment. Why was he getting so worked up over this?

“What I’m saying is that we think you’d make a valuable addition to our heists. If you have nowhere else to go, we’ll take you,” He turns to walk away. “I don’t expect you to make a decision right away, you can take some time-” But when he looks over his shoulder at the brunet the speech is knocked out of him.

Tom is smiling wide, blue eyes dancing happily while looking down at the mask in his hands, nodding slowly.

…

Not long after Tom agreed to heist with them, the four find themselves in the inconspicuous pink minivan, Paul driving them towards the bank they agreed on. 

“Tom, for your first heist, you’re going to stay in the van. Paul will stay with you and it’ll be up to you two to drive us out when we need a quick getaway,” Tord instructs, adjusting his blue uniform over his hoodie, and positioning his mask. He tosses a handgun into Tom’s lap. “Also, keep as much heat off of us as possible. There’s a good chance the cops could show.”

All three of Tord’s subordinates are nodding, but Tom slips his mask up quickly to say something. “Yeah, quick question,” Tord nods for him to continue. “What the fuck is with this van?” 

“It’s unassuming,” Paul offers defensively, tightening his grip on the wheel, and both Tom and Tord snicker. Patryk consoles his boyfriend and rubs his back, then clicks on his communicator and slips his mask down, cute doggy face making Tom straight up laugh.

The van rolls to a stop in the alley across the street from their target, and Tord nods to Pat before they tighten their holds on their respective firearms and bust out of the rear doors.

He uses some spare energy to pick up his speed, racing for the entrance to the bank. He bursts through, dropping his shoulder to smash through the doors and holding his gun up, firing a series of shots into the ceiling. As always, he revels in the loud gasps that come from the civilians inside. 

“We’re gonna be quick today, kiddos,” Tord explains, snapping his fingers together and letting his claws and horns materialize, now that Tom’s not watching. “Just line up and put your valuables in the bag that our good pooch here is holding. I’ll be right here if you need me.” And with that he’s brandishing his rifle, keeping it aimed on the citizens. 

Obediently, people start lining up and dropping wallets, watches, and phones into the burlap sack that Patryk holds. Little fuss is made, except for a few criers in the audience. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Tord spots a clerk shift their hand underneath a desk, and he shouts. 

“ _Hey!_ ” But it’s too late and an alarm starts ringing, causing the patrons of the facility to panic. Tom and Paul’s voices are heard through the communicators, but Tord can’t make it out over the screaming. He lets his claws and horns fade away, opting to mix himself in with the crowd as they rush out.

Paul looks like he has the same idea, but when they get out of the building he shifts into his wolf form and grabs the bag in his teeth, sprinting faster than his leader towards the bright pink van. Tord curses his bipedal legs but pushes forward anyway, clinging to the back of the van and screaming through the window.

“ _DRIVE!_ ” 

It’s only Paul and Patryk in the van though, and his heart stops. “Where’s Tom?” He hisses and Paul weekly points behind him. Tord turns and spots the brunet, a few yards away, and it’s really a sight to behold. 

Tom’s got an automatic rifle in either hand, firing away at the cops that turn around the corner, successfully suppressing them from advancing on the crew. He’s laughing, and when one of the guns jams he just throws it on the ground and pulls a grenade from his side, yanking out the pin and throwing it just meters in front of the police officer pile up.

_Tord thinks he’s in love._

A sinister smirk spreads on his own face as he pulls out both of his handguns, making his way towards Tom. “Hey, hun,” Tom laughs at the pet name while Tord fires a few shots of his own at the officers. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

Tom nods and picks up the gun he threw down moments ago, running back with Tord to the van, hoping inside and whooping as Paul peels out of there. Tord fires a couple more shots at the cops, hoping they’ll take the hint and keep off their asses.

Tord sighs happily when they’re on the highway, adrenaline still pumping through his veins giddily at the getaway. He turns to see Tom smiling wide, mask pulled up over his head and mussing up his hair. It takes everything for Tord to not just lean over and kiss him.

“Enjoy yourself, then?” Tom nods eagerly, prodding Tord in the chest. 

“Next time, I wanna go inside.” Tord couldn’t agree more.

…

“The moon is fast approaching.” Paul comments, looking out the window like an old grandfather would when telling his grandkids some war story.

“Uh… in English please?” Tom requests, sprawled out on the couch with Tord’s head in his lap, the shorter of the two watching TV with Patryk.

Patryk lets out a small laugh, making his mate bristle and huff in annoyance. “The full moon is scheduled to rise in a few days,” He explains, before flashing Tord a curious look. “Do you wish to accompany us, sir? We could bring Tom.”

Tord shrugs, something that irritates Tom, considering it grinds Tord’s shoulder blades straight into Tom’s thighs, making the brunet mutter a curse under his breath. This causes Tord to snicker, but the demon doesn’t laugh for long, creasing his brow in thought. “I have plans already for Tom and I,” He states, keeping his eyes closed in order to both avoid eye contact with his teammates and enjoy the warmth of Tom’s body heat against his upper back. “They’re very special, important plans.”

This earns a warranted amount of confusion from Tom. “Um… what? Where the heck are we going?” Tom questions, fiddling in his seat.

Tord smirks. “It’s a surprise, knucklehead. You’ll find out when we get there.” He insists, refusing to give away his plans.

Tom huffs, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” He mutters, bouncing one of his knees to jostle Tord. “Get up; I gotta use the loo.” He says, annoyed.

Unimpressed, Tord nonetheless sits up, allowing Tom the chance to go use the bathroom. He doesn’t lie back down until he hears Tom go into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. “Where are you going to take Tom, sir?” Paul asks, ever the questioning type.

Tord shrugs, flopping down onto the couch with a sigh. “No clue,” He admits, though he flashes Paul a smirk. “But… I think I have a few ideas in mind.”

Now it’s Patryk’s turn to be confused. “Like what?” He questions.

Tord let’s his mind drift, a memory of a lake as clear as the sky and a cabin rich with life. He grins to himself, reveling in the newfound inspiration. “Oh, don’t you worry, Patryk. Just trust me when I say that it’ll be good.” And he leaves it at that, since Tom comes back into the room and, after adjusting Tord’s upper body, sits back down with Tord’s head in his lap.

The demon barely holds back a contented purr at the affection, feeling Tom offhandedly fiddle with a few strands of his hair. Tord squints up at Tom, staring into the boy’s icy blue eyes, and again, he thinks of that clear-as-sky lake… yes, this will be perfect.

…

“So,” Tom says from the passenger seat, turning down the volume of the radio so he doesn’t have to talk over it. “Where are we going again?” 

Tord flicks his gaze away from the road for a moment to look at Tom. “I’ve already told you, it’s a surprise.” He turns the radio back up and huffs, patting at the breast pocket of his hoodie in search of a cigar. 

Volume back down. “No offense, but last time I wasn’t told where I was going, I got fucking kidnapped.” Tom laughs at the guilty look on Tord’s face. He pulls a cigar from his pocket and hands it to the demon, who accepts it begrudgingly, popping it into his mouth. Right when he does, though, he’s approaching a traffic circle, so he leans towards Tom in hopes the smaller will light it for him.

Tom huffs, holding the lighter away. “I’m not gonna light it ‘till you tell me where we’re going.” Tord groans.

“You’re really not gonna let me keep this as a surprise?” The brunet shakes his head. Tord sighs. “Thought it would be nice to get away for a spell; treat you to a night out since we’ve pulled off a few successful heists.” He shrugs, trying not to embarrass himself. He moves to turn the volume back up, but Tom reaches out at the same time, and their fingers tap together for a moment.

The Norwegian pulls his hand back immediately, gripping it back on the wheel so tight that his knuckles strain against the leather and turn white. Tom doesn’t move his own hand though, except to turn the volume back up slightly, still not quite as loud as Tord had it at before. 

“Did you still want me to light your cig-, oh, looks like you already got it?” Tord is looking at him perplexed and then down at the unlit cigar in his mouth.

“No, I still-” Oh. His nerves must have been getting to him, because smoke is starting to rise up from the holes in his hoodie and also from his mouth. He curses his demon biology and tries to figure out how to play this one off. Tom just hands him the lighter without another word and the pair don’t say anything for the rest of the car ride.

…

It’s a few hours before they make it to their destination. Tom fell asleep shortly after their conversation about their intended destination, so Tord moves to wake him up when they get there. The sun is just starting to set, and the Norwegian kicks himself for a passing thought of how Tom looks good in the morning light.

In the end he just decides to unpack, leaving Tom to sleep in favor of unloading luggage and looking at the cottage in front of him. It’s an old place, he bought it years ago and kept it furnished for a nice occasion (and of course, kept it supplied for use as a safe house, if need be). Just beside the small building is a clear lake and a small stone path leading to a gazebo in the distance.

Tord unpacks everything, and by the time he’s done, the sun is almost all the way down. Tord walks himself down the path, breathing in fresh air and lighting the torches next to the gazebo as he goes. He enters the tiny structure and looks out onto the lake.

The way the crystal clear water reflects the quickly rising moon is stunning; nearly every surface looks like it’s covered with the milky white glow of the planetary satellite. 

“Tord?” Tom’s voice startles him, but he composes himself quickly, attempting to stop the fluttering in his chest. 

_This has to happen_ , He thinks, turning towards the man and putting on a confident smirk. _I can’t keep dancing around this._

The demon puts both of his hands in his pockets. “What a magical night for two criminals, walking in the silver glow.” He lets his hands shift into claws, unbeknownst to Tom. The brunet continues to approach, curious sneer present on his face.

“Jeez, are you always this dramatic?” He’s climbing the couple of steps leading up to the demon, now, and Tord twitches his fingers anxiously.

“That’s just my style,” He chokes it out immediately, sensing Tom getting close to him. _Just rip off the band-aid_ , Tord tells himself. _Just rip it off_. “So,” He relaxes his shoulders and leans his head forward. “Tell me, Thomas-” The familiar weight of his horns settle at his temples and he can feel his tail shimmer into existence as he turns to face the human, red eyes glowing.

He brings a clawed hand up to lightly touch Tom’s cheek. “-Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” The astonishment in his eyes isn’t unexpected, and neither is the twinge of fear he spots in the pale-blue orbs.

“Oh my god,” He whispers, and Tord wonders if he was mistaken in thinking Tom would accept this part of him. Maybe, despite the hints that he had, Tom really didn’t know that Tord is a demon. But, “That was the cheesiest line, oh my god.” He’s back to smirking, and the Norwegian is practically reeling. His shoulders stiffen and he pulls his clawed hand back slightly, surprised.

“Why,” Tord whispers. “Why aren’t you scared? Why don’t you act like humans are supposed to?” Tom laughs and steps into Tord’s space. 

“I wasn’t aware we were supposed to act a certain way,” Tord’s mind stops when his tail brushes the far wall of the gazebo; he hadn’t realized he was walking backwards while Tom walked forwards. He turns to look behind him for only a second, but when he turns back those beautiful eyes are looking up at him and are far too close. “I’ve known this whole time, Tord. Did you really think I’d forget after you knocked me out that first night?” Tom chuckles. “You must be more ignorant than I thought, and that’s honestly saying something.

He stutters, trying to find his words, but Tom stands on his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Tord’s neck, and Tord can feel his entire brain shut off. “Uh.” is all he can manage before there are lips on his, and he’s leaning back, hands finding the rail behind him and using his arms to support himself. 

His eyes slip shut almost immediately, and he sighs into the kiss, slowly moving his lips with Tom’s. He adjusts himself (though never breaks that initial contact of lips), so he’s sitting on the railing instead of propping himself off of it, getting his hands free to cup the sides of Tom’s face. The smaller hums at the feeling, and breaks the kiss to comment. “Your hands are so warm.” He nuzzles his cheek against the scaled hands, and opens his eyes, looking at the demon’s horns.

“So, like,” Tom slowly moves a hand up to feel the ridges on one of Tord’s horns. The demon lets out a low, rumbling purr and tilts his head down, allowing Tom to feel as he pleases. He runs both hands along the curves and ridges, almost in awe of the feeling. “You’re a demon? Or something?” Tord only nods, mind going numb at the energy flowing through him because of all the physical contact. 

Tom pulls him up to stand unexpectedly, and he stumbles in Tom’s arms, using his tail to steady himself. A questioning look is only answered by a smile. The smaller man puts one hand up on Tord’s shoulder, the other resting on his waist. 

“You asked if I’ve ever danced with a devil, or whatever?” Tord audibly gulps and nods slightly. Tom just smirks and laughs up at the demon. “I haven’t, but we can change that tonight.” He tugs on his waist and pulls him into a slow sway, sighing happily at the feeling. 

Tord smiles too, heart fluttering impossibly fast in his chest. He choses not to question it, for once, and just leans down, stealing a kiss of his own. 

…

“What is this?” Tom asks at the long, black feather that’s been dropped into his lap. Tord doesn’t meet his gaze, but both Paul and Patryk are on the other end of the room, pointing at their smiling faces and giving him encouraging gestures. It’s almost comical how, when Tom turns to look at them, they look down at their laps and act as if they’re doing something. 

The human picks the feather up gingerly and holds it close to his face, studying the odd shimmer from the natural oils on it. Tord’s hand twitches involuntarily, but still he doesn’t speak. His face is red as Tom runs a finger down one edge in a matter of inspection.

“It’s… cool?” Tom tries and looks up in confusion. Tord mentally kicks himself for being so worked up over this; to any human this is probably a meaningless gesture, but to him the implications are… Uncomfortable to work with, honestly. He thrashes his tail in an effort to calm himself down and Tom follows the movement, eyes trained on the tip of it.

His eyes grow wide with the sudden realization of where the feather came from and he looks up at Tord with a smirk. Before he can say anything, though, Tord shuffles away, spouting a series of curses in Norwegian. It takes only moments before Paul and Patryk are standing up and making their way over to console their leader.

…

Tord walks into the room with an air of authority he only puts on when he’s entering a bank; but he feels this situation pretty well, too. Inside, Paul, Patryk, and Tom are already waiting for him. Tom’s seated at the little round table in front of the whiteboard, the straps of his mask around his neck, leaving the mask to hand like a necklace while he reloads his revolver, his hands graceful with the weaponry. In the corner, Paul and Patryk are dozing, cuddled up together. However, when Tord comes in, all eyes are on him. Tom stops fiddling with his handgun immediately, giving Tord an expectant look, while Paul and Patryk jump up to salute the demon.

“At ease,” Tord orders, but that only manages to convince Paul and Patryk to stop saluting. They remain standing, ready to be briefed. “As you all know, we haven’t pulled any heists since before the full moon, and I _know_ how antsy you boys are getting,” This earns a smallest of growls from Paul, a flash of excitement glimmering in the werewolf’s eyes. Tord simply holds up a hand, calming the wolf. “You’ll have plenty of time to get that energy out. Now, as for the mission-”

“-Please tell me that I’m on vault duty.” Tom interrupts, looking almost if not more eager than the two werewolves in the room.

Tord rolls his eyes, groaning. “Let me finish, dumbass,” He orders, only to earn a stuck-out tongue in response. “Anyways… before Thomas so _rudely_ interrupted me… we’ll be hitting a building in one of the upper districts. I am well-aware that this is a more dangerous area to be stealing from- the cops will answer quicker for the rich bastards- but I think we are more than capable of pulling this off.”

He gestures to a floorplan of a huge mansion-like estate. “It’s a warehouse filled with loot belonging to one of the nastiest crooks in the city. Because of how the building is built there are two entrances. Paul and Tom; you two will be entering from the east, while Pat and I are coming from the west. We’ll dispatch guards as we go, making our ways to respective vaults, and eventually converging on one central room. The ceiling is made of glass, making it a perfect exit point..”

Tom cheers, looking ready to shoot his gun into the air in celebration, but one click of the tongue from Tord has him shutting up, looking for the life of him almost sorry. Tord continues, once he’s sure that Tom won’t be blasting a hole through the ceiling. “If we do this quickly, we should be able to fly out of there in no time flat. I’m well aware that Tom has never flown with me before, but I feel it is our only means of escape if- _when_ the cops get called. There’s no avoiding it in the upper districts. Dismissed.”

At once, Tom and Paul take off, chattering to each other in high spirits as they discuss bomb designs and other explosive ideas. Tord moves to follow, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at Patryk, who looks very concerned. “Sir,” Patryk says, and Tord can already tell how upset the wolf is; something must be wrong. “I… I have a bad feeling about this, sir. Like something will happen.”

Tord sighs, accepting this. With Patryk and Paul being better connected to the Earth- considering their breed of monster- they sometimes get these gut feelings. Everyone gets them, but for Paul and Patryk… Tord understands how hard it can be for them. Most of the time it’s nothing- faulty genes or intense anxiety has caused more than a few false alarms in the past- but sometimes… sometimes it’s real, and when it’s real, it’s either really bad or really life changing. Now that Tord thinks about it, he remember Paul mentioning a gut feeling the day they kidnapped Tom. Shaking that thought away, Tord puts on a brave face for his teammate.

“Ey,” He murmurs, patting Patryk’s hand on his shoulder in reassurance. “We’ll be careful in there, okay? We’ll stick together once we get in, and we’ll keep in touch with the boys at all times. Alright?”

Patryk still seems unsure, but in the end he simply nods, wolf ears appearing and flapping back in submission. “If you’re so sure, sir. It’s just… nevermind.” With that, Patryk follows after the boys, leaving Tord to watch him go.

Tord sighs, demon tail coming up to wrap around his lanky legs in a showing of comfort for himself. Tord fiddles with the fluff at the tip of his tail, unnerved by Patryk’s gut feeling… but Tom and Paul are eager for another heist, and this one is so promising… it’ll be fine, Tord assures himself. He’ll make it work.

...

Tord grumbles around the cigar in his mouth, leaning back and looking over the plans for the next heist. It was ambitious, sure, but with how good Tom was getting at heisting with them all, he knows they can pull it off. Doesn’t keep him from stressing, though. He takes a long drag from his cigar and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes thoughtfully.

“The plans coming along alright?” Tom comes up behind him and questions, looking at the map laid across the table, covered in markings and writing.

Tord nods and crosses his legs in concern. “I think so. I feel like with the proper communication we can pull this off, but...” He sighs, breathing out two long streams of smoke from his nose. Tom follows the smoke trails with his eyes, eventually smirking down at the lounging demon with a look in his eyes that takes Tord a little too long to place.

“Don’t be so worried,” Tom says, stepping forward, leaning down so he’s eye level with Tord. The demon blushes but doesn’t drop eye contact with the man in front of him and somehow Tom’s smirk gets wider. The brunet leans forward, so their faces are barely inches apart. “There are plenty of things that are better for you than worrying.” 

And with that Tom plucks the cigar from Tord’s mouth, taking a drag from it himself and holding it in as he puts his hands on both sides of the Norwegian’s face. Tord lets his mouth hang open in awe, both at how Tom has the gall to just take his fucking smoke and _oh my god, how is this so hot-_

Tom laughs and blows the smoke directly into his mouth, ending the action with a filthy kiss, dragging his tongue along Tord’s and sucking on his teeth and upper lip. Tord moans lowly, hand moving up to grip the front of Tom’s shirt, dragging him down so he’s straddling his lap.

“Maybe there are better things to do than worry...” Tord admits, before stealing a smoky kiss of his own, and grinding up slightly towards Tom.

…

“So, get this,” Tord hears Tom say over the headset and snorts as he blows a guard’s head off with his shotgun. “When Paul and I busted in, there was already some other gang?” He laughs and a bang is heard from the other end of the headset. “Yeah, they’re gone now.”

Patryk’s voice sounds from next to the demon. “If there’s another gang around here, it could be best to look out for traps. Do you recognize who they are?”

“Well,” Paul cuts in with a grumble. “It’s hard to tell when they’re a pulpy mess on your shoe.” Tom laughs and Paul makes a small ‘oof’, implying Tom gave him a quick shove. “How did our crew get so much more violent when Tom joined? You’re a good kid.” He gripes.

“Tom is secretly a huge sinner,” Tord laughs when Tom stutters. “I should know, because I’m the devil.” Paul and Patryk both sigh.

“Sure you are, boss,” A little bit of silence from all ends as they approach their marks. “Paul and Tom, how close are you to your safe?” 

The human’s smirk is audible. “We’re already at ours, and there’s no guards in sight. How about you guys?” 

“Hm,” Patryk checks the map in his hands before nudging Tord to follow him to the left. “We’ve got a few more guards sticking around here and there, but I’m pretty sure we’re almost at our cache,” He steps over a body and Tord just crunches his boot into it. “If you guys get to the main room first, make sure to lie low.”

Both Tom and Paul make small noises of confirmation and Tord mutes his headset, looking to Patryk from behind his mask. “Where were we, Pat?” The werewolf shrugs as he checks a corner, gun at the ready. He deems it safe though and continues. 

“Something about you and Tom…?” He offers and Tord snaps his claws.

“Yeah, Tom,” He sighs dreamily. “So, I know I’ve told you a million times about the night where we went to the Gazebo-”

Patryk snorts. “You have.”

 

“-But we never said we love each other. I like Tom a lot but I don’t know how he feels about me,” He sighs dramatically, clutching his firearm to his chest. “He’s so cryptic, I’m telling you. He’s one of the only humans I have a hard time figuring out.”

“You’ve said.”

Tord glares at the werewolf and flips his mask up. “Well what I’m saying _now_ is I think I’m gonna ask him out. Like, actually ask him out instead of him interrupting me when I’m about to ask with a make-out session, you know?” Patryk just sighs.

The Norwegian is about to continue his rant when Paul suddenly cuts in the coms. “Sir,” He sounds unnerved, and immediately Tord puts his serious face back on. “We have a problem here.”

“Status report, Blue.” He commands into the headset and Tom flicks his headset on.

“Things here are _fine_.“ Though he tries his damnedest to hide it, the nerves are still clear in Tom’s voice.

Tord curses Tom’s stubbornness. “What is the situation?” Silence. “That’s an order, _Blue_.” Tom sighs and curses quietly. 

“It’s just a bomb, it’s no problem. I can disarm it, I just-” He swears again and Tord’s heart stops. “I just need a minute and some quiet.” The Norwegian exchanges a fearful glance with Patryk, who looks just as worried as Tord feels. 

“Abandon the mission,” Tord says, numb. “We’re not risking safety for this. We’re pulling out now, no questions asked,” Tom groans into the headset and there’s a sharp clack on his end. “Blue,” No answer. “Tom.”

It’s Paul’s voice he hears and it does nothing to calm him down. “He just threw down his headset, sir. He’s fine, he-” Paul’s voice gets muffled slightly, but his words are still clear when Tord strains his ears. “Tom, you heard him, we have to pull out.”

Tom’s voice is a lot less clear, but Tord knows he’s refusing to listen. He sprints towards their location, ignoring everything but the voices on the headset and the fear that pushes him forward. 

“Sir, we gotta go, there’s no time!” Paul shouts, becoming frantic. Tom says something quickly, but the werewolf cuts him off with a whine. “It’s gonna blow-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Tom shouts so loud and Tord feels like he’s about to vomit. “Just shut up, I can still-” The next few seconds are a blur. He hears Paul shout, a small curse from Tom, and the deafening cacophony of an explosion. Patryk cries out next to him and suddenly a huge, lumbering wolf barrels past the demon.

“Paul?” Patryk whimpers ahead and Tord rushes forward. He turns the corner and gets a good look at the room just as Patryk lets out a small and terrified ‘oh my god’.

The entire room is destroyed, Paul is lying on the ground unconscious, hand outstretched at a huge pile of rubble near the center of the room. Patryk is chanting ‘no’s and crying, back in his half-shift but mask thrown down on the ground next to his boyfriend’s. 

Tord swallows the lump in his throat, and attempts to take hold of the situation. “Pat, calm down, check his pulse.” He does.

“He- He’s alive!” The werewolf chokes around a sob and bows his head. “Thank god, oh my god,” Tord nods, thankful as well.

 

“We need to move him and,” He orders, but his heart actually stops when he sees what he feared under the rubble ahead of them. “And…” 

A single arm pokes out from underneath a jagged piece of marble. It’s got one of their blue uniforms on.

_“Oh no.”_

Tom.

Tord rushes forward, all sense of self gone, his mind chanting Tom’s name over and over, fearful and anxious. He pulls at the debris until he reveals the human’s body, fragile and broken by the weight of the rubble. He lets out a low sob, tugging at the body in an effort to wake him. His heart flutters when he sees movement in his hands, but when Tom tries to open his eyes and cries out in pain, Tord feels a ball of ice settle in the pit of his stomach.

When Tom opens his eyes, they’re no longer the pale blue he knew.

They’re black.


	2. Hellbent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two pieces in a puzzle that fit together, clinging as if their lives depend on one another. What happens when one is separated from the other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for possibly triggering content, including hospitals, needles/discussion of surgery, IVs, hallucinations, kidnapping, and physical abuse/combat/conflict, minor character death, major character death
> 
> Sorry it's been so long guys, but I hope you don't mind the wait, and please enjoy!! ;0c

All he hears is beeping and voices; it’s all too much noise, too much. He tries to tell the noises to stop, but it’s too loud. They can’t hear him. Each sound overpowers his own voice, he needs their attention. He needs them to stop.

He looks for a way to get them to listen to him, but when he opens his eyes, all he sees are bright, bright lights moving fast above him. He looks to his right and left, and it’s clear to him now that he’s being pushed along by masked people, all with hats that have little reflectors on the fronts to shine the lights back louder in his eyes. It hurts a lot so he wrenches them shut again.

Tom tries to bring his hands up to protect him from the masked light-men, but they hold his hands down and he screams. They’re gonna kill him, he’s gonna die, the reflectors are so bright he can see ‘em even with his eyes closed. 

Suddenly he’s not moving, or at least the thing they’re pushing him on isn’t. He tries to open his eyes again, but the men are still there. At least it’s not so bright- oh no this is much more bright toobright _toobright_. They let go of his wrists so he can at least bring his hands up to protect himself now and, oh. _Wow_ , that’s a lot of blood, wow, alright.

The hands of the light people are back on him, holding him down, but he doesn’t struggle, all he can think about are his bloody, bloody hands. They stick something up against his arm and its sharp for a sec but almost immediately Tom decides it might be a good idea to take a nap.

...

He must have slept for years. Tom groans lowly, the pain in his face too much to bare any longer, even in sleep. He brings his hands up to his face, trying to feel for the pain.

Can’t find his eyes. Where they ought to be is flat and rough, almost like paper or fabric.

‘Must be around here somewhere,’ He thinks, and attempts to vocalise it, but it comes out as a grumble and a soft, throaty whisper. His throat is too dry. He needs water right now, holy shit, anything to drink, now, now, now- He feels around for something, anything. His eyes would be nice, if he can find them, so he can find water, and stop his throat from closing up forever, and then he can leave this awful place. 

“ _K͎̣̭͙ͯͩ͂͐͋l̲͐͌͑̓̉̅̆͞ė̪̳͚͖̦̩ͯ̓͂͢ḍ̪̩̯̻ ͈̃̀ͦn̹̩͕̜̤̗̏͑ͧ̐ͨ̅͢s̰̦̗͍͓͙͔̉̄ͧ̑ͥ͑ ̮͈̝͍̥̦̐̊̇ͥ͜ḧ͎̲̮͡d͖̂_ ,” A voice beside him says quietly. Tom turns violently and searches for the source but he touches his face again. Still no eyes. He can’t see. Who said it? 

“ _H̅͑͆͞o̡̮͓̙̟ͨͭș̨̗͐̔̌̒ͦj̸̲̊ͤ̓ͯ̚a̪̩͕̟͕̍,̡̹̦̪̲͔̝̉̍ͭ͐ͅ ͑̿ǡ̙̞̭͋̂̆͒ͫ͡u̖̹͓ͧ͂͘y͇͛̿̀s̖̭̜͊ͪͭ?̵ͭͫ̍ ́̓T̢̩̩̘̗̪͑̒̿͛ͅo͙ͬ̓ͧͤ͟ͅm̹̈́͋̾̅?̺͖̟ͤ̆̃͞”_ His name. He nods, he understands his name. _“A̡̹ͩ̇̚I̘͕̱̰̪̓̔̆̆̎s̞͙̔ͮ̏ȟ̫̪̬̣̩͈̹͆́s̤̮̺̖͍̻̰̓̏̏͊̽ͦ?̷͍͍̀̑ͤ”_ Tom just keeps nodding. Maybe the gibberish speaker will give him some water, or his eyes. He’d like both. 

It’s a moment of silence, and he’s pretty sure he’s alone. He didn’t hear anyone leave, but he’s alone. It’d make sense. Everyone’s left him before, why wouldn’t they now, even when he’s so thirsty and needing his fucking eyeballs. He’s used to being alone.

He hears a whimper, and it takes him a second to realize it’s him. Too high pitched, didn’t realize, sounds like him but years ago, before he sounded right finally. Without water he sounds like before, and he hates it. Hates it, _hates it_ , he needs water, needs to sound _right_ , needs to live.

Tom wants to cry but he has no eyes, he know it’ll be useless. No eyes means no tears. He didn’t like tears anyway, they made him feel gross. Not to mention they’d make him lose water, and who knows how much he even has left, he can’t- A cool glass is pressed into his hands, and he needily grips it, pressing it to his mouth so quickly he doesn’t even try to say thank you. It’d be useless without his eyes, anyway. 

Greedily, he gulps down the liquid and too quickly it’s gone. He felt some drip down the corner of his mouth, and he uses his hands to try and put it back into his mouth. Can’t waste any. 

The voice laughs, but Tom can hear the anxiety in it. It’s impossible not to hear that when he’s laughed like that so many times. _“O̵̿̇ͨ̓ͧͦ̀a̹̯͔͖͛ͣͧ̌i̫̹̳̗̼̖͆ͧ̌̆ͫs̯̲̱̣ͣ ͉͔͈̫͕̳u̡̲͓̥͓̭̮͉ͯ̈́͗̇ͤ̄̚ḁ̗͈͚̤͍ͫs͈̞̣̠̅ͩͬị̻̺̰̙̜͇ͧͤ̿͌̌͑,̢̤̻̰̦͇ͨͩ͂̆ n̤̐̇ͯnͮ̊̒̽͗,̊̾ͧͧ͢ ̯̂ͧ̀ͫT̡́̎̄̐̽ͫ̈ô̘̯̂̏̆̔̈́ͨm̡̠̀ͦ̚?̼͚́ͫ͋ͨ”_ More gibberish, so he just nods again, hoping that maybe the voice will give him more water. Or maybe his eyes, he really wants those back.

To help the voice understand, he points at his face, eventually smoothing his fingers along the fabric there to try and make what he wants clear. There’s a moment of silence, and his mind is suddenly flooded with those ‘alone, alone, alone’ thoughts, until the voice makes a small sound, showing Tom that it’s just. Hesitant. Or maybe secretive. Maybe the voice is keeping his eyes, in exchange for the water. Tom isn’t sure if that’s a fair trade. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, for a moment, until he realizes it feels familiar. That hand, specifically, was familiar. Nothing here has been familiar, so he leans into the touch right away, needing any kind of anchor he can get to. The hand doesn’t move for a second, as if waiting for the ‘go ahead’, but after a bit it moves up and down and Tom sighs, leaning softly into the familiar touch. He’s searching for an answer as to why it’s familiar, but he can’t find it. The warm touch is making him sleepy, though, and now that he has at least half of the things he wanted, he doesn’t see why he can’t lie down for a bit. Maybe if he sleeps he’ll grow new eyes. 

“Goodnight, Thomas.” The voice whispers softly, and this time Tom understands what it says completely, but he fades off before he can place who the voice belongs to.

…

Bad, bad, bad, Tom thinks, waking up with a start. He remembers scratching at his arm in his dream, but there’s something in it, in his fucking arm, probing deep into his veins. He can’t even begin to think about what it could be so he just. Pulls and tugs on it, ripping it out painfully. It might hurt now, but he doesn’t want it in, whatever it is. 

But now that it’s out, there’s an alarm. A soft, _beep beep beep_ -ing that’s somehow piercing in this small space. Are they robbing a bank? Where’s Tord? Where are Paul and Patryk, and for the love of God, _where is his gun_? Like, any gun? He stands and searches frantically, straining his eyes against the dark, but it’s fruitless. He can’t see a thing. 

“Tord?” He shouts desperately. “Patryk, Paul??” Tom needs them, his family. They’ll help him, he knows it. 

Something stirs behind him, and grumbles. A monster? A demon? Tord’s told him a lot about how to defend himself but Tom doesn’t know where the nearest wooden stake or salt shaker is. But it’s a gruff voice that he recognizes immediately.

“Tom? What are you doing up, and where’s y’r IV…?” The voice is quite groggy, but it’s Paul. Tom stumbles towards the sound quickly, hands out in front of him to find the tall werewolf. 

“Can’t,” Talking is really hard for some reason. It feels like he’s got a sock in his mouth. “Paul. Can’t see. Where..?” He trips over a bed and falls, hissing in pain as he hits his wrist against a hard lump under the cloth he lands on. 

Paul makes an ‘ _oof!_ ’ and Tom turns to look in the direction the sound came from. What’s Paul doing in bed in the middle of a heist? “Jeez, Tom, how many drugs do they have you on? You gotta get back in your bed and wait for the nurse, he’ll put the IV back in for you, just, mmph!“ Tom finally managed to get his hand over Paul’s mouth.

“Paul, we don’t have much time,” He wheezes out, touching a hand to his face. “Help me get these bandages off so I can find a weapon, we gotta find Pat and Tord-” A door opens somewhere and Tom turns back toward the sound violently, feeling around for something, preferably something sharp.

“Sir?” _Fuck_ , the cops are here.

Tom grips Paul’s side and pulls hard, flinging himself off the bed and pulling the lycanthrope down with him. He’s still feeling around for a weapon but for some reason, there’s nothing sharp in this room at all. “Shit, Paul, you’ll have to shift, I can’t find a weapon.”

“I-” The taller of the two starts. “No, _Tom_ , that’s the nurse, I’m not.” A moment of hesitance. “As much as I’d like to though, considering…”

“Considering it’s a cop? Paul, don’t tell me you’re going soft on me?” 

Paul’s laughing, and Tom can’t help but think that now’s not the time. “You think that smelly fucker is a cop?” The werewolf sits up a bit, looking over the side of the bed, despite Tom pulling down on his shoulders. “Hey, blood-breath, you a cop?” 

“Hardly,” The voice calls back in exasperation. “I’d prefer you not use derogatory terms at me, though, while I’m working. And especially while I don’t have any ill intentions towards you,” He pauses before adding slyly: “ _Fluffy._ ”

Paul’s standing, now, even with Tom doing his best to try and hold him down. Honestly, he’s pretty much dangling from the werewolf’s shoulders. “Alright, you know what Tom, sure, I’ll tear this cop up for you, I’m sure nobody would mind-”

“Paul,” It’s Patryk, and Tom can’t tell where he is exactly, but it sounds like the same direction as the nurse-cop. He’s expecting the sound of a gun, or flesh tearing, but it’s nothing except Patryk sounding a little disappointed, frankly. “Don’t threaten people who are helping you. ‘S not polite.” Paul grumbles a bit but shrugs, successfully knocking Tom off and onto the floor. The small man tries half-heartedly to sit himself back up, but after a second he realizes the floor is really comfortable. He hears the cop-nurse say something and both Paul and Patryk, but it isn’t long before it all fades into the background.

...

It’s deafeningly quiet. That’s all Tom can think as he stirs himself.

It hurts to be awake, but Tom keeps himself in a state of consciousness out of spite, refusing to just give up and fall back into unconsciousness. Squirming, Tom tries to reach out and touch something- anything- that might help bring him back to reality. Tom feels around, finding warm, soft cloth sheets underneath him. Humming, Tom’s fingers soon trace over the familiar fleece of his Tomee Bear. Eager for the comfort the small stuffed bear provides, Tom fights back the pain and hugs his teddy close, nuzzling his face into the fur of the stuffed animal. Slowly, Tom begins to wake up more, comforted by the stuffy's presence. With great difficulty, Tom opens his eyes.

Nothing. Tom can’t see a thing... Annoying. 

Tom struggles to remember how he got to this bed, though, and he can’t remember much. He remembers wanting something, needing something... Something to the right of him stirs, barely making a sound but thanks to him not having the use of his eyes it’s a lot easier to hear. At least it’s something. The sound makes him startle, at first, but pretty quickly he remembers Paul being here. It’s probably Paul.

“Hey,” He calls out to make sure. “Paul?” Just in case he’s wrong.

The stirring sound starts up again and there’s a low, tired grumble. “‘S me, Tom,” There’s a pause, then a soft thump, like someone letting a limb like a leg or arm fall onto a bed. “You’re not gonna rip your IV out and start jumping around again, are you?”

Tom shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting position. “Don’t plan to.” Paul sighs in relief.

“No offense, but thank fuck. Last time you got blood all over my sheets, and I don’t want that blood sucker in here wanting a taste of me,” Tom knits his eyebrows together uncomfortably underneath the bandages across his face. Paul must notice because pretty quickly he elaborates. “Tord’s friends with Matt, he’s a nurse here. This is one of the few Paranormal-friendly establishments in regards to health and stuff.”

The smaller of the two nods, bringing his right- no, there’s an IV in that wrist. He brings his left hand up to feel across the bandages on his face. 

“Yeah, you got bandages too. Not sure how bad you look, but,” Paul sighs and trails off, and Tom immediately feels a pang of guilt. His memories of that last heist are definitely. Fuzzy. But Tom pretty clearly remembers Paul telling him he ought to leave the bomb and him refusing, thinking it’d be alright if he disarmed it himself. 

Obviously, it wasn’t. Not only was he in the hospital, but so was Paul. The werewolf didn’t deserve that, especially when he was kind to Tom immediately when he had been... kidnapped, technically, by Tord and the gang. Sure, he ended up being adopted by their weird criminal family, but still. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs, letting his hand fall into his lap, folding it over the other one. 

“Hn?” Paul sounds confused. “For what? We get to be bandage buddies!” He chuckles a bit, but Tom can’t find the energy in him to do the same. It goes silent, and Tom wants to apologize once more.

There’s shuffling from Paul’s end of the room, and then Tom feels wide hands across his back, rubbing softly. At first he flinches, just because it’s unexpected, but he calms himself down pretty quick. There’s a deja vu feeling, but it’s not quite right. Like it was a dream or something.

Paul murmurs some calming words in Dutch and Tom soothes at the words. They comfort him so much but for all he knows Paul could be saying something at his expense. The calm moment is short lived, though, when Paul growls lowly. Tom’s about to ask if he did something wrong, but there’s quick knock on a door or wall somewhere across the room towards Tom’s left, and the human assumes that’s what the werewolf growled at.

“Oh,” Tom jerks at the sound of a barely familiar voice, hissing in pain at the pull on his aching muscles. “You’re awake… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” The voice steps closer, and Tom tenses even more, not knowing what to do. If Paul growled, was it someone bad? The ‘blood sucker’ he mentioned earlier? 

“Don’t be scared, Tom,” A familiar Polish accent calms Tom down quickly. “This is Matt Harvest, your nurse. He’s a personal friend of Tord’s, and both Paul and myself are familiar with him.” Patryk doesn’t advance very far into the room, judging by how far away he sounds, but Tom makes out the sound of footsteps approaching and assumes it’s Matt.

Tom perks up a bit when Pat says his boyfriend’s name, though. “Where is Tord? Is he here, too?” A moment of silence. He knows the answer before anyone says anything.

“Sorry, chum,” It’s Matt. “Tord’s not here right now, but he pops in a lot to check up on you both. I’m sure you’ll see- er,” He stops himself a little too late and Paul huffs on Tom’s behalf. 

Right. Seeing might be an issue.

Matt clears his throat before correcting himself. “Well, I’m sure you’ll _hear_ from Tord before you know it!” 

Tom sighs but nods. “Right.”

It’s uncomfortably silent for a bit and Tom can hear the nurse shuffle a few papers in his hands before clicking his tongue. 

“So, yes. Alright, mmm,” _Nervous_ , Tom notes. He wonders if it’s Paul, who obviously doesn’t like him, or the nurse’s own fumbles that have him like this. “I’m supposed to perform a quick check up on you, Paul. And, Tom, since you’re awake, I can probably take care of a few things here as well…” He trails off as he looks at his papers and Paul grumbles, but otherwise doesn’t protest and shambles over to his bed.

Tom smirks and imagines Patryk giving one of his looks to Paul right over Matt’s shoulder. His shoulders slump a little, because he can’t see it. _And you might not ever see it again_ , part of him thinks, but he shakes his head to rid himself of the thought.

He lets the sound of Matt asking Paul questions fade into the background as he lies back a bit in his bed, trying to relax a bit but feeling his anxiety rise. Patryk settles down at the end of his bed, a comforting presence.

“It’s safe to rest, Tom,” He murmurs softly. “Save your strength. You’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” For the first time in a while, Tom accepts sleep without a fight.

…

Tom wakes this time to comfortable chatter. It’s Paul and Patryk going back and forth in a combination of English and Russian, picking and choosing the words that make sense to them both. For a moment the Brit wishes he knew another language, but their chatter being unintelligible to him is. It’s nice in a way. It blends into the background and it creates an odd comfort.

Before he can think to suppress it, Tom lets out a loud yawn, interrupting the two wolves. He feels a little bad about it at first, but he doesn’t know how long he’d want to pretend to be asleep, anyway.

“Morning, Tom,” Patryk greets him warmly. “Or should I say afternoon? I bet it’s hard to keep track of the time without looking at a clock often.” Tom hums but otherwise doesn’t answer. 

Paul nods his agreement- at least, Tom thinks he does. It’s hard to tell with a blindfold over his eyes. “To be fair, even if he could see, there’s no clocks in this room besides your watch, hun,” He sighs and pats something made of cloth. “Pat, though, would you please…?” The Polish man sighs.

“Sure thing, babe,” He stands from where he was sitting next to Paul and ruffles Tom’s hair as he passes. “You tell me if you need anything, alright?” He says to the Brit. “I’m gonna sneak Paul here some cigarettes.”

Tom allows himself a quick smirk. “If you’re getting him drugs, would you bring me some booze? Anything is good, preferably something strong?”

“No cigarettes and absolutely no alcohol,” A new voice chastises, and it takes Tom a minute before he recognizes it to be Matt’s voice. “Sorry, chaps. But how are we this morning?”

Tom thinks about it, lost in his thoughts. Besides the blindfold, he actually does feel a little better. He’s still sore all over, but it’s not unbearable- it’s a soreness that’s akin to having worked out for a long period of time. “A lil’ better.” Tom supplies, after he’s through with thinking about it. “But alcohol would help…?” 

Matt chuckles, patting Tom delicately on the shoulder, making the younger man jump slightly, if only because he couldn’t see it coming. And, okay, maybe it was also because he just got touched by someone he doesn’t know too well, but he brushes that part under the carpet. “You really can’t, sorry. Thins the blood,” He shuffles to the other bed. “And how about you, Paul?” The nurse asks, question now focused on the werewolf.

Paul only grunts, not bothering to give Matt a real answer. “He’s doing better than he was yesterday,” Patryk says, sounding just a bit irritated with Paul. "Прекратите давать вампира отношение, он пытается помочь вам для взывают громко." He directs the words at Paul, saying them in another language so that no one else can hear him.

Paul huffs, sounding upset, but he doesn’t put up a fight on the matter. “Come on, Patryk. We should give these boys some proper rest; you’ll do them no good acting as a helicopter parent.” Matt instructs, voice soft and comforting, like he’s said these words to several people over the years.

Patryk hesitates, obviously wanting to stay, before he seems to give in, pausing to brush Tom’s hair out of his face. “Get some more sleep, okay? You need it.” He explains, trying to urge Tom to fall asleep again.

Tom mutters not very nice things under his breath. “I hate sleeping so much…” He says, mad that he has to stay here all day and night.

“It won’t be for forever, kiddo,” Matt promises, and Tom can hear that edge of power in his words, filling Tom’s bones with an assurance that all will be well soon. Is that a Vampire thing, too? Or is it different than Tord’s? “Just relax and fall asleep, buddy.” Feels the same.

“I’m… not a kid…” Tom can hardly speak as he lies down fully on the bed, movements sluggish as his body feels weighted and heavy.

“I know.” Matt replies, just as Tom falls out of it completely.

…

This time, Tom dreams.

The dream is nonsensical and unpredictable, leaving Tom floating in an endless space. Tom stares out at the cosmos, bright glimmers in every direction. Either he’s in a cavern with thousands upon thousands of crystals in the walls, or he’s in outer space. Unable to distinguish which it is, Tom glides around in the darkness, before coming to a standstill. A tiny, red, glowing light hovers in front of him, no bigger than a frog or baseball. Slowly, Tom cups his hands around the little orb, eyes wide with wonder as it sparkles in his palms, warming his body from his fingertips to his toes. He shivers.

Suddenly, the orb escapes Tom’s hands, buzzing away. Greedily, Tom chases after it, flying through the endless space to seek out the little light. Before Tom can catch it, he slams face first into a fuzzy object. He reels back, sputtering, before he shakes his head, willing the confusion away. Slowly, he looks up, icy blue irises landing on blood red ones. Tord stares down at him in his demon form, furry/scaly body surrounding the young man. With careful movements, as to not frighten Tom away, Tord slowly wraps his arms around Tom’s skinny body, pulling him close to himself to let out a long, steady purr.

Tom sighs with contentment; how he has craved this sort of attention from Tord. Currently, he can’t remember why he hasn’t been this close to Tord in so long, but he doesn’t care to dwell on it as he contents himself with curling up against Tord’s chest and relaxing. Tord lies down in the abyss, adjusting Tom so that he’s lying dormant on his stomach. The demon let’s out another long, comforting purr, warming his feathers and scales to keep Tom warm. As the pièce de résistance, Tord wraps his wings around himself and Tom, cocooning the smaller man with feathers until only his head is showing.

Tord presses a kiss to Tom’s forehead, willing the man to sleep in his dream, forever close to the human as he drifts through the void.

…

Matt’s there when reality hits. Tom groans, already missing the warmth from Tord’s body wrapped around him. “Shh,” Matt whispers, noticing Tom’s squirming and discomfort. “It’s alright, Tom. Did you have a bad dream?”

Tom hesitates, before shrugging, having a hard time remembering the dream as he slowly wakes up. “Don’t… remember,” Tom admits, yawning even though he doesn’t feel all that tired anymore- just lazy. “What time is it?” He asks, a little curious.

Matt takes a moment to answer. “2:55 AM; I just came by to check on you boys. Don’t worry, you’re not keeping me up. I’m more of a… night owl.”

Tom nods. Matt’s a Vampire, or at least, that’s what Paul implied. How many other monsters sucked blood? The chupacabra, he supposes. If demons and werewolves were real, does that make things like the infamous goat-sucker real, too? 

“You seem troubled,” Matt points out, interrupting Tom’s thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Tom, again, hesitates, before throwing it to the wind. “Are you a monster?” He asks, and, okay, maybe that’s NOT the best way to phrase that question, but Tom can’t resist the temptation.

Matt laughs outright, before quieting down when Paul groans a few feet away, still trying to sleep despite Tom and Matt being wide awake. “Am I a… you sure are funny, Tom-Toms,” Matt says, patting Tom on the head. “Of course I am! How else would I’ve been able to take care of grumpy over there?”

“Well… alright. Guess you got me there,” Tom agrees, nodding his acceptance. “So… what kinda monster are you? Paul called you a blood sucker… So I assume you’re something like a, vampire, or maybe a, uh, Chupacabra?”

Matt loses it this time, failing to hold in his laughter. “Hahaha! Chupacabra? Not sure if they exist, but I’ve never been to Mexico personally. Sure you could ask Paul, though! I’ve heard his mom is a coyote!” At this, Tom hears something get thrown, the object nailing Matt in the head, if his grunt of surprise/pain is anything to go by. “Your aim seems to have gotten better tonight, Paul, you’re adjusting to the depth perception well,” The nurse comments, voice too cheerful for a guy who just got hit in the head. “And to answer your question, Tommy; yes, I’m a vampire.”

Yeah, okay, that actually makes sense, Tom decides. Aren’t werewolves and vampires mortal enemies in fairytales? No wonder Paul hates Matt so much. “So, you _do_ drink blood then?” Tom asks, willing away the primal need to cover his neck now in Matt’s presence; if he wanted him dead, he would’ve eaten Tom by now.

“Only in small amounts. But, yes, I do. The hospital I work for supplies me with it so I won’t go all feral on someone- nasty business, that,” Matt explains, sounding nonchalant about the whole thing. “Do you need a drink, by the way?”

Tom stiffens, before Matt chuckles. “Oh, I’m sorry- I mean for you to have some water, dear. No blood. Just water.”

The human hesitates, before nodding his assent. “Um, yeah, water would… actually be pretty nice.” Tom admits, licking his lips as he realizes how dry his mouth is. Yes, water would be very much appreciated right about now.

Matt nods, gone in a flash. Thankfully, Matt returns before Tom can get worried, pressing a chilled glass of water to the injured man's lips, carefully tipping the cup and flooding Tom's mouth with fresh, clean water. Impatient, Tom reaches his hands up and closes his hands shakily around the glass, trying to take control. Matt allows him this bit of self-preservation, though Tom can still feel Matt's hand helping to balance the cup.

Suddenly, Tom's shaking palms lose their grip on the cup, spilling ice cold water onto his lap. Without comment, Matt takes a dry cloth and gently runs it over Tom's face and hands, attempting to clean up the mess. Tom squirms in earnest at the gentle touches. Sure, his social workers had been gentle with him as a kid, but not many other people had been.

“Oh, stop it with that squirming,” Matt chastises, though his tone is warm and easy. “Just let me clean you for Christ's sake… there,” He finally gets the water all soaked up, ruffling Tom’s hair afterwards. “All finished, Tommy!”

“It's Tom,” The human practically sneers, irritated by Matt's fussing over him. “Don't call me Tommy.”

Matt puts his hands up in surrender at the sound of the venom in Tom’s voice, recognizing that Tom doesn't have the patience to deal with Matt's affection at the moment. The two men sit in an awkward silence afterwards, before Matt fetches another glass of water, this time not allowing Tom the chance to hold the cup himself, not that Tom even tries to make a grab for it. Instead, Tom allows the nurse to take care of him, even letting the vampire place a hand on the back of Tom's head to steady him.

Once Tom has drank his fill, Matt stands back up, smoothing the hair out of Tom's face as he looks him over. “Well then, I'll let you rest,” Matt's voice is hardly above a whisper when he finally speaks, obviously trying to keep his voice down in an attempt to coax Tom to sleep. “Sleep tight, alright?”

Tom doesn't respond, too tired to speak. However, he manages to stay awake as Matt exits the room, the vampire stopping midstride while leaving. Tom pauses, scooting under his bedsheets as he waits and listens, focusing his attention in Matt's general direction. Suddenly, Tom catches a whiff of fire, followed quickly by the scent of… _cigar smoke_. Tord.

“How is he?” Tord's voice is quiet, making it difficult for Tom to hear him, even with the background silence that's provided by the nighttime.

“He'd be a little better if he knew how you were doing,” Matt doesn't even try to hide his disappointment in Tord. “Really, Tord, he could use your support… now more than ever.”

Tom stiffens as Tord exhales, the smell of smoke making Tom's stomach twist. “You know I don't have time for that,” He pauses, before trying to backpedal. “What I mean is… he doesn't need me… I'm of better use to him working on this.”

Matt sighs, giving up quickly. “If that's how you feel,” He says, before coughing in disgust. “And stop smoking that shit in the waiting room! You're upsetting the other patrons.” As Matt walks away, Tom finally loses his fight against his own exhaustion, too worn out to keep up the fight.

…

Paul tries not to be overexcited when he’s finally getting discharged from the hospital, and Tom can tell thanks to the sound of the werewolf hoping lightly on the bed as Matt does his final check up.

“You’re alright to be excited.” Tom mutters after Paul stops bouncing abruptly for the fourth time at least, conscious of the patient who isn’t able to leave yet. Tom just had his final surgery last week, and he still needs some time to heal and potentially adjust, according to Matt.

The nurse had said that “It could take some time getting used to your physical appearance,” and that just made Tom’s flesh crawl. How much damage had the fucking bomb done to him? They told him he’d be able to see, but they’ve mentioned his physical appearance several times. Tom hates the worry that his appearance will make him even more unappealing to look at, because it’s petty but it’s genuinely more worrisome to him than the loss of his eyesight.

“Don’t mope, friend,” Patryk says out of concern and compassion, rubbing his hand on the human’s lower back. “Paul and I will make sure to visit you regularly.”

Tom blows some hot air out of his nose but nods. “You two are the only people worth my time, anyway,” He knows he sounds petty, but he’s upset and trying not to actually say he’s mad at Tord. Judging by the room’s sudden silence again, the werewolves exchange a glance or look at their feet, not wanting to upset the human any further.

…

The atmosphere of the room is oddly tense as Tom, rather slowly, begins to come to. It’s the first night that Paul is gone, and he can feel his paranoia kick in when he’s pretty sure he hears breathing. Normally he’d be able to ease his mind at least a bit by looking around and confirming nobody’s here, but thanks to his bandages he doesn’t have that option. His fingers twitch by his side, but he’s too scared to move. The breathing is real, he knows it.

_Someone’s in the room with him._

His breathing picks up in speed, growing rapid in just a few seconds, chest rising and falling so quick that the blanket shifts. Logically, he knows that there’s probably nobody in here with him, but he can’t stop his body from panicking and suddenly his thoughts are interrupted when a clawed hand lays itself on his forehead. 

Tom freezes at once, breath hitching, while the stranger’s hand also pulls back, realizing their mistake. Before the stranger can explain themselves, Tom snaps, trying to leap out of bed and away from the dangerous hands. He shouldn’t be doing this- Matt warned him that physical strain could make Tom’s health deteriorate- but fuck it, Tom isn’t going down without a fight!

 

However, the gentle hands grab Tom’s arm, stopping him from escaping as they start pulling him back, despite his struggling. “Easy, Thomas,” A thickly accented voice murmurs, rather tired, talons barely holding onto Tom, digging slightly into his nightgown and putting a pressure on his skin. “No one is here to hurt you… I was just checking up on you.”

He hates how Tord’s voice calms him almost instantly, hates how his body betrays him and his anger at the demon for not visiting him earlier when he needed him. “Well aren’t I _blessed_ ,” Tom hadn’t originally meant to sound so condescending and venomous, but Tord’s sudden arrival just rekindled the anger he’s been harboring since he woke up in the hospital. Slowly, he lets Tord pull him back onto the bed, the demon tucking the sheets around Tom’s waist so the human can sit up. Tom pretends that the showing of affection doesn’t bring him at least a little bit of comfort. “Piss off,” He growls once Tord’s done, pushing the Norwegian’s hands away from himself. “Why don’t you go bother someone else?”

 

There’s a pause, and Tom thinks that Tord has left, before the demon lets out a long, worn out sigh of exhaustion. “Thomas,” His whole energy changes, causing a decrease in tension in the atmosphere. “I wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off,” Tom spits, before grabbing at his own face, desperate to claw off the stupid bandages. “Just leave me alone already! If you gave even one crap about me, you would’ve visited me by now! I know how to take a hint.” There’s just a bit of hurt in his words at the end, but Tom pretends not to notice; he doesn’t need to add salt to his already torn open heart.

There’s a pause, the silence in the air only broken by Tom’s fervent clawing at the wraps over his eyes. As if just noticing this, Tord tries uselessly to grab ahold of Tom’s wrists. “Stop that, Tom,” Tord chastises in a soft tone, sounding lost and guilty. “There’s no need to-”

“I said _fuck off_!” Tom growls, and without thought or sight he pushes his restrained wrists at Tord, trying to throw the demon away.

This only results in the two men falling together to the floor, Tord letting out a weak grunt as the air in his lungs eject like rockets from his open mouth. Now free of the monster, Tom scrambles away in a fury, growling as he tugs and scratches at the bandages on his face. Suddenly, he manages to tear some of the gauze, and with a yank he manages to pull the rest off. 

Despite the lights being off, the room seems impossibly bright to his hardly used eyes. After a bit of blinking, though, he’s able to see enough to look at the walls that surround him for a mirror, but he comes up with nothing but a few doors, one slightly ajar with a toilet barely visible. Bathrooms have mirrors, Tom thinks as he jumps to his feet and, before Tord can even begin to stop him, he scrambles into the restroom he’s had to use for the last few weeks.

Flicking on the lights, Tom’s breath hitches and his jaw slackens at the sight of himself. Black, inky voids stare back. Hesitantly, Tom reaches a careful hand up and pokes one of his eyes. He hisses, blinking as his eye stings from the contact. Tom’s speechless, unable to grasp how this could’ve possibly happened. Was it the bomb? Did it blind him? Well, obviously not, since Tom can see just fine. But still… his eyes are black as night, and he…

He fucking hates them. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom can see Tord standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. He turns around quickly, horrorstruck.

Tom can’t even speak, even though he tries desperately to. Even if he could, what would he ask? How would Tord be able to help him? “I’m sorry,” Tord, thankfully, speaks up first, though his tone is sorrowful. “I’m so sorry, Thomas... “

Slowly, Tom nods, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “... It’s okay,” He lies, walking towards Tord and bumping his head into his shoulder, desperate for comfort while he tries to fight off the knotting pain in his abdomen, begging him to cry. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” He keeps repeating the words, as if they’ll somehow fix this Hell of a mess. “It’s alright, Tord, I’m okay.”

Tord just nods, wrapping his arms around Tom, and it’s only then that he breaks. Tom sobs quietly into Tord, burying his face into the taller man’s hoodie and grasping at the fabric around his chest with clenched fists. Gently, Tord sits them down against the bathroom’s wall, turning off the light on the way down. Tom only cries louder in the darkness, completely collapsing against Tord. They stay that way for a long while, the human’s crying slowly ebbing away. Eventually, Tom pulls back, giving Tord the chance to thumb away some of his tears, leaving kisses in their place once they’re gone.

“It’s not okay,” Tom says after a long while, resting his head on Tord’s chest, tuckered out by all his long-needed crying. “I just… want it to be okay. I want it to be like old times again.”

Tord freezes. “You mean, before you met me, or-”

“After,” Tom cuts the demon off and clarifies, surprised that Tord would even suggest there were better times before his existence in his life. “Jesus, Tord, I just don’t want this to end what we’ve been doing, I,” He takes a shaky breath. “I wanna rob banks again! I wanna plan heists and walk Hamilton and drink smirnoff! I wanna cook with Paul and drive around with Patryk and-” He pauses, considering his words, before he kisses Tord’s chin, and he knows the demon must be blushing because the faintest scent of fresh smoke hits his nose. “... And I don’t want to stop being with you.”

There isn’t even another pause before Tord starts talking, slowly, as if tasting his words before saying them. “I don’t want anything else to happen to you.” Tom avoids Tord’s gaze, but he can feel the bright irises on him. “I can’t lose you, Tom.”

Tom huffs, before softly punching Tord in the arm. “You won’t,” He promises, sure of this fact. “What happened last time was a rookie mistake; I won’t get myself killed,” He softens a bit, running his hands over Tord’s arms, marveling quietly at the feathers and scales that have popped out from underneath Tord’s skin. “Besides, I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I?”

Tord hesitates this time, giving Tom a serious look. “One mistake is enough, friend,” He states, trying to sound authoritative. “We have plenty of money to live off of… we could reti-”

“-Hell no,” Tom manages to sound much more boss-like than Tord. “Do you really think I’m so fragile? One hit and then I’m down? Fuck that; I’m like a cockroach.”

Tord, again, seems unsure, before he finally sighs in defeat. “Fine,” He agrees, though he sounds upset about it. “But don’t come crying to me when you go blind next time!” He says it but Tom feels the arms around him tighten and a tail curl around his body.

Tom scoffs, shutting his eyes as he leans into Tord more, tired after his initial breakdown. “There won’t _be_ a next time.” Tom assures, clinging onto Tord like a baby koala.

The Norwegian simply nods, running his fingers through Tom’s hair. “I know…” He says, almost knowingly. “I promise, Thomas… Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Before Tom can question the Norwegian, he’s asleep, just glad to be back in his boyfriend’s arms after so long.

…

“Alright, so, fill me in again,” Tom says into his comm-piece while pointing his gun at an innocent bystander. Matt gave the human the all clear to leave the hospital about two weeks ago, and this is their first heist all together since he’s been released. He fires his gun into the air to keep the hostages on their toes while Tord’s in the back, cracking the safe with Paul. “You say this gang, the one that placed the bomb, they’re some new group? Just moved in? Not the Fangs or the Pyres?” 

Pat cuts in. “Neither of them or the Flights. Totally new group that showed up seemingly overnight, and the word in the underground is that the heist we pulled that night was their first one.”

“Well they should know what turf is Red turf,” Tord spits into his comm. “The whole thing rubs me the wrong way, they have a lot of bodies and they’re really organized. Not a combination that you really see when it comes to gangs.”

“If you ask me-” Paul starts.

“Good thing we’re not asking you- ow! Alright, jeez. Tord trails off and Paul continues. 

“If you ask me, this whole thing reeks of paranormals. I say that the gang is being run by a vamp, and what blood-sucker do we know that would pull shit like this?” 

Patryk sighs before deadpanning. “We don’t know any, Paul.” A scoff from his end.

“ _Matt Harvest, babe,_ ” All three sigh, and Paul sputters. “Look, he has a motive, manipulation powers, a thirst for-” 

Tom hums. “Paul might have a point, though.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting on that shit too, hun.” Tord whines, but Tom shakes his head, realizing that the Norwegian doesn’t have a visual on him a second later.

“No, I don’t think Matt is in charge of the gang, but something paranormal… I dunno, concerning I’m speaking to a demon and his pals the walking fursonas, I think it’s a pretty safe bet.”

Both Patryk and Tord mull it over for a moment while Paul decides to take this one as a victory for him this time. 

“I suppose that has some validity at least,” Tord agrees, finally. “But we’ll have time to discuss this all later, Paul just cracked the safe and the cops should be here any second. Let’s bounce,”

 

Tom shoots the ceiling two more times before meeting up with Tord so he can fly them out. God, how he missed this.

…

It’s a few days into that post-heist relaxation period, so Tom doesn’t expect to find Tord in his study face first in a pile of books, snoozing while Hamilton is sitting happily at his feet. He snaps a quick photo with his phone, always enjoying catching his boyfriend in cute positions when he can. 

“Alright, man,” He whispers, theoretically to Tord but he’s mostly talking to himself. “Let’s get your nose out of these books and into a pillow or something.” He leans down and does his best to hoist Tord up, putting the Norwegian’s arms around his own shoulder and using both arms to wrap around his waist and half-carry half-drag the sleeping man upstairs to their bed. 

Tom takes a second to peek at what Tord was studying, though, wondering if it’s in any way related to the new gang that popped up, but all Tom sees are diagrams with tiny script and lots of numbers. There’s a notepad covered in scrawl that looks like it’s probably Norwegian to the side, as well as a drawing of a humanoid figure and next to it what looks like a cyclops.

“Tord must really like sciences,” Tom muses, but ultimately settles on the idea that this is all nothing and Tord’s just bored. “Just hope this idiot isn’t working himself too hard.”

…

“What’s this?” Tom asks as he turns the glass jar over in his hands, trying to find a label to tell him what he’s holding. 

Tord nervously shuffles from one foot to another, scratching the back of his head as he speaks. “Some meds you gotta start taking; remember how you were complaining about your eyes hurting a few weeks ago? These should help.”

The human looks at his boyfriend, expression slack jawed and dumbfounded. “You made a medicine for me? All by yourself??”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “An acquaintance of mine helped me develop it, and it should be just the thing to help your eyes. It’ll be best for you to start taking it as soon as possible, but big differences might not be noticeable for a few weeks or maybe even months.”

“Something is better than nothing at this point,” The Brit sighs in relief, smiling up at the other genuinely. “Thanks, Tord, this means a lot!”

For some reason, though, he refuses to meet Tom’s gaze. “Don’t worry about it.” He murmurs, ruffling the smaller’s hair before following Hamilton outside so he can smoke without bothering Tom.

The human smiles wide, grateful to have such a loving boyfriend.

…

In an effort to get Tord out of the house and his head out of all those books he was flipping through constantly, trying to find anything out about the rival gang and also constantly checking up on Tom’s health since he started taking the meds (just the occasional headache but nothing major), Tom decided to take his boyfriend out to lunch for once. 

They decide on a small out of the way diner, where they can get endless french fries to split between the two of them and just talk about whatever came up. The current topic was about Tom’s absolute hate of ketchup.

“I just don’t see the point of it, man, it’s a shitty use of tomatoes,” Tom mutters, mouth full of fries. Tord just rolls his eyes so Tom explains further. “All they need is salt, man, look:” But when he grabs the salt shaker Tord freezes and he quirks a brow. Slowly so as not to startle him he asks, “You alright?”

The Norwegian steels himself in a flash and nods, trying to look nonchalant. “Absolutely fine.” 

Tom nods as he lightly salts the french fries between them, keeping his eyes locked on Tord. He doesn’t miss the flinch when he puts the shaker back down, and in fact smirks a little bit once he’s pretty sure he’s figured it out. “Want one?” He asks, sliding the basket over.

Absolute silence between the pair as Tord carefully selects the fry with the least salt on it and grips it delicately between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it to his mouth and wincing as he bites down. The Brit watches and barely suppresses his laughter as Tord grips the table in pain, tears welling up in his eyes and smoke pouring out from the sleeves in his hoodie.

“So is this a demon thing?” Tom asks, around his chuckles. 

Tord tilts his head back as he chews the salty fry, sticking his tongue out afterward and talking around it instead of sticking it back in. “Nah ah’ daemah,” Tom narrows his eyebrows to glare so Tord takes a drink to rid his mouth of the salty burn, before carrying on and speaking in a way the Brit can understand. “Not all demons have the strong weakness to salt like I do, it’s mostly demons who are lower on the hierarchy.” 

“Oh, sorry if it’s a touchy subject, then.” Tom mutters, awkwardly. He knows next to nothing about demons except for what Tord and the wolves have told him, but he tries not to pry. It’s not really any of his business.

Tord’s rolling his eyes though. “I don’t mind talking about it too much. It’s mostly when the higher ups want to constantly remind me that I’m ‘just a little whelpling’ that it pisses me off. Feel free to ask me whatever, whenever.”

The Brit nods, and when Tord’s looking at him expectantly, he does his best to look sheepish. “I don’t think I really have any questions, sorry.”

But the Norwegian laughs. “You’re fine, Tommy, don’t worry about it! Just let me know if you ever do-” He must’ve forgotten about the salt on his fries because he grabbed a huge handful and shoved them right in his mouth when he was talking. Tom full on laughs as Tord drinks the last of both of their waters, as well as the entire ketchup bottle.

...

“Fuck!” The quick, angry curse startles Tom awake. He can’t remember if he dreamed at all but the question is pushed out of his mind when he sees Tord stand from his desk, pushing a musty book onto the floor and pulling out his phone in the same movement. 

Now, Tom’s not as good at reading people as the demon, who now paces around the room, but it’s pretty clear to him that Tord isn’t very happy. The way he walks, shoulders hunched and forward, teeth grinding- it’s pretty easy to see it. Also, with the smoke shooting out the sleeves and neck of his red hoodie, you’d have to be an idiot to not see he’s… Steaming.

“Tord?” Tom calls out sleepily, rubbing one of his eyes and hoisting himself up into a sitting position. “‘S wrong, babe?” The demon freezes as soon as Tom speaks, turning to stare at the Brit with wide, glowing eyes, pupils squared like a goats. 

“Fine,” Tord hisses out, voice deep and throaty, making the human shiver involuntarily. “‘M fine. Sorry for waking you.” He types something into his phone then pockets the device, crossing the dark room to sit next to Tom on the bed. 

Tom looks up at the demon, who threads his fingers delicately through his hair. “You sure you’re alright? You can talk to me if anything’s ever bothering you,” He yawns, body giving away his drowsiness. “Even if it’s something I probably won’t understand. ‘M here for you, Tord.”

The Norwegian nods, but Tom only knows because he feels the hand on his head move with it. His eyelids grow heavy, eager to pull him back to the sleep he was interrupted from. “I know, Thomas.” Tord sighs, and Tom does the same, slipping off quickly.

…

Tord’s lounging in the living room with a book on his lap when, a few days later, Tom wakes up thanks to another headache, but the Brit stops and does a double take when he spots the Norwegian there. Hadn’t he been in that exact same spot since lunch time yesterday? Tom looks at a clock on the wall next to him and it reads nearly noon, meaning it’s possible Tord hasn’t moved from that spot for around twenty four hours.

“Hey, babe?” Tom asks warily, making sure Tord wasn’t in a mood or something. The demon doesn’t even respond but he doesn’t seem angry or tense, from what the human can tell. It’s not like he’s as good at reading people as Tord, anyway. “Tord, whatever is in those books can’t be so important that you’re not sleeping?” Still no response, though, so he walks around the couch to actually face the demon.

The first thing Tom notices are the wicked bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in forever. Also, even though he’s in his human form, a lot of his physical traits allude to his true demonic nature, such as his nails are more claw like and his teeth are sharp fangs that poke out slightly. “Tord, have you even slept?” The demon slowly looks up, lethargic and meeting Tom’s void-like eyes with his own red ones, though they’re tired and worn. 

“Huh?” He says after far too long.

“When was the last time you slept?” Tom asks, now urgent and impatient. 

Either it’s taking him way too long or Tord’s just not processing the human’s words. He blinks. “Did you say something?” Tom just groans and goes to get Paul or Patryk, hoping either of them will have an easier time getting Tord to fucking rest for a change.

…

Apparently being rudely awakened was a new regular occurrence, either by his pounding headaches or Tord’s need to flip through books all night and day. A lamp the demon is using is bright in their dark bedroom, and Tom groans, burying his head into his pillow to escape the brightness. 

“Tord, babe, please,” He scoots over and tries to make a tempting place for the incubus to lie. He can’t remember the last time the demon indulged on some cuddling, so there’s no telling how badly he needs the energy. “Come to bed, it’s too early for books, there’ll be time tomorrow.”

The Norwegian ignores him and turns another page in the grimoire, shifting his body slightly away from the human. It takes a lot of effort, but Tom manages to drag himself out of bed, stumbling over to Tord and leaning on him once he makes it over. Immediately, though, Tord flinches away like he’s been burned and Tom falls on his face, groaning when his headache gets worse. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He yells, glaring up at Tord. “You’ve been off for days, what is this about?” Tord rolls his eyes.

“I have work to do, Tom,” He violently gestures to the book in his hands. “I don’t have time to sleep all day, unlike you.”

The human stands himself up and threateningly leans into Tord’s space. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to sleep so much if your shitty medicine didn’t constantly give me awful headaches.” Tord looks away for a moment, before bringing his harsh gaze back to Tom.

“I don’t have time for this,” He mutters quietly, grabbing at his things and hauling it all out of the room without even saying goodbye. Tom tries to find, in this whole mess of feelings, a reason for Tord’s behavior, but he can’t think of any. 

The only difference between now and before are his eyes, Tom thinks darkly, dragging himself into bed and trying not to dwell on the dark thoughts right now when his headache is getting to him.

…

 

“Yeah, okay, on the ground, my guy,” Tom orders, fed-up with the hostages as they keep glaring at him, one of the men even having tried to put up a fight. Thankfully, Tom was able to shut him up with a bullet through the knee. “See what happens when you bullshit with me, dude? Ya get shot and blood gets all over the floor; the janitors ain’t gonna be thankful for that, I’ll tell ya what.”

“Stop playing around, Blue,” Tord bites out, and yeah, that actually surprises Tom; it’s like Tord’s not even having any fun anymore! “This isn’t a game.”

Tom hesitates, before giving the crowd of bystanders a trained look. “One moment please, people. It seems my boyfriend has a case of ‘infected asshole’,” With that, he turns to Tord, trying to pull off an ‘I’m not amused’ look through his smiley-face mask. “Dude, you okay? You’ve been acting like a hardass all day.”

Tord sighs, shaking his head. “It’s nothing… I just want to get this done, alright?” Tord explains, not meeting Tom’s mask.

Before Tom can ask for the demon to elaborate, a small whispering is heard from the crowd. “Hey, quiet over there!” Tom shouts over his shoulder, turning halfway towards the crowd to glare at them all.

The whispering doesn’t stop, and just as Tom gets ready to make an example out of one of them- maybe shoot the protestor from earlier’s other knee- Tord strides over to the crowd, dragging out the hidden whisperer. “You! What did you say!?” Tord booms, screaming in the guy’s face. “Where is Balis!? Where is he, dammit!”

Tom just stares, suddenly feeling like a bystander all over again, remembering that fear of God and death as Tord violently interrogates the whisperer. Tom thinks the whisperer confessed, because after something is weakly spat from his mouth, Tord blows the guy’s head off with a shotgun and tosses his beheaded body to the floor. The crowd cringes, backing up as a select few cry, and Tom almost joins them in backing away from the demon, but he manages to hold his ground, refusing to show his fear in the face of an angry boyfriend. Slowly, he steps towards Tord, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Red, calm down,” He whispers, trying to calm the demon’s kindling fury. “It’s okay. Nothing’s going wrong, okay? Paul and Pat are almost done, then we can-”

Tord blasts off out of Tom’s reach, running further into the bank. “Tord!?” Tom shouts, forgetting the hostages as he runs after Tord, screaming at the top of his lungs in an attempt to get his attention. “Tord, come back! What the fuck are you doing!?”

No matter how loud Tom yells, Tord just keeps going, until he finally runs out of Tom’s sight, the human unable to match the incubi's tremendous speed. Panting, Tom leans on a wall for support, struggling to keep upright. As if it couldn’t get any worse, a raging headache begins to blossom in Tom’s head, making him worry that his brain might just explode from how heavy and sore it is in his skull. Tom breathes slowly, getting ahold of himself in the midst of disaster. What the Hell is Tord’s problem anyway, running off like that? Does he not realize that they’re in the middle of a fucking heist?

Just as Tom adjusts himself, he hears a loud, piercing screech that sounds eerily familiar. “Tord!” Tom yells, giving himself no more time to recover as he goes after Tord again, stopping as he rounds a corner to a horrendous sight.

There’s a tall, shadowy figure at the other end of the room, holding Tord’s limp body in his hands. The guy has two bodyguards with him, both heavily armed. Tom’s breath quickens as he realizes how dire the situation is, causing fear to spread in his insides. Suddenly, the tall fucker looks up, and Tom can make out a smirk when he sees him. “Ah… hello there,” His voice is terrifyingly calm, and it only makes Tom shiver harder. “So sorry to interrupt your little game, but I’ll be needing your playmate for a while,” He smirks, eyes twinkling with a terrifying power in them. “I have no quarrel with you, though. Goodbye, human.” He says, waving at Tom.

Tom blinks, ready to pull out his pistol and start firing, but he’s stopped when the two bodyguards, with a speed that outmatches even Tord, cross the room in seconds and tackle Tom to the floor, clawing and biting at him as they shift into demonic monsters. Tom struggles, trying to escape, but it’s no use. The last thing he sees before blacks out are Paul and Patryk attacking the bodyguards, and then he’s out cold, the feeling of his teeth and eyes aching following him into his dream world.

...

Waking up is… surprisingly painful. Tom groan in exhaustion as he cracks an eye open, the colors around him blurring and spinning. He’s home, he thinks, feeling Hamilton licking his hands while he’s laid out on the couch. For a moment, Tom wonders if all of the heist had been a horrible dream, but the thought is ripped away as he finally notices Paul and Patryk talking in the doorway, both werewolves talking to each other in hushed, worried voices. When they hear Tom moving, both wolves look his way, unable to wipe away the looks of concern from their faces, and it must’ve been real, Tom realizes. Dear God, it was real…

Tom swallows, an intense need to ball up in a corner and cry wrinkling in his chest, but he manages to stop himself from even whimpering as he sits up on the couch, hands fiddling with the blanket draped over him. Meanwhile, Hamilton hops onto the couch, not even noticing the dreadful situation as he curls up at Tom’s feet, letting out a small ‘boof’ as he wags his stumpy little tail. Tom pays the corgi no attention, mid too full of worries and concerns to take accept any comfort from the small dog. Slowly, as if trying not to frighten Tom away, Patryk walks forward and crouches beside Tom, running a gentle hand through Tom’s hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Patryk promises, trying to comfort Tom in his time of need. “Don’t you worry, Thomas… we’ll get Red Leader back.”

“We don’t even know who _took him_!” Paul growls, looking furious with Patryk for even trying to downplay how dire their situation is. “Jesus, Pat, where do we even start? We don’t even know who this Balis _moederneuker_ is!”

“Paul, stop it!” Patryk says, upset that Paul’s trying to fight. “You really want to start something right now?” He softens, glancing at Tom. “ _Нам нужно сохранять спокойствие ... для Тома_."

“Don’t tell me to be calm! I _AM_ calm!” Paul shouts, half shifting. His tail doesn’t wag happily like it usually does when he shifts, only twitching every so often in a barely masked fury.

“You’re being unreasonable!” Patryk accuses, not tolerating Paul’s bullshit right now. “You can’t just take this out on us and expect us to-”

_“Quiet!”_

In a heartbeat, both werewolves shut their mouths and fully shift, sitting like obedient little domestic dogs. Tom shivers at the sight, moving uneasily as he stares down at the two wolves, having stood up on the couch when he made his order. He glances at Hamilton, who is also sitting at attention, looking just a little scared. Tom softens at once, crouching down to pet the small dog. Slowly, he stands back up and overlooks the weres, knowing deep down that while Tord’s gone, he’s in charge. Sure, Paul and Patryk have been around way longer, but they’ve always seen Tord as the ‘Alpha’, and since Tom was obviously his, for lack of a better word, Tord’s mate…

Looks like he’s next in line for pack leader.

“Alright, so,” Tom struggles with his words, trying to remember how Tord used to order the wolves around in the heat of a heist. “I’m in charge,” He feels like that’s important to clarify, before Paul or Pat decides they wanna try and challenge him. “And until we find Tord, that’s how it’s gonna be, okay?” When both dogs nod, Tom relaxes a little, glad to see that there won’t be a power struggle now that Tord’s gone. “First thing’s first… finding Tord. We’re gonna have to go through all his old books, maybe try and find some clues. Got it?”

Again, both werewolves nod their understanding. “Anything else, sir?” Paul questions, giving Tom a concerned look.

Tom swallows, hesitating, before he shakes his head, putting on a calm expression as he jumps down from the couch, trying to act brave. “No. We find Tord… now go on, get researching! Question every supernatural fuck in town about this Balis bitch and how to find him!”

With that clarified, both wolves take off, leaving Tom to wallow in the living room. Tom groans aloud, glad to be alone as he flops onto the couch, blindly petting Hamilton as the corgi licks at his face. Tom sighs, picking up Hamilton and setting the dog on his lap. He looks to the coffee table, seeing one of Tord’s old books there. He picks it up carefully, squinting at the cover. ‘Demons and Where to Find Them’, the cover reads. “Whelp,” Tom murmurs, opening the book to the first page as he scratches behind Hamilton’s ears. “Let’s get to work.”

…

Tom runs into Matt.

It’s completely by accident, but really, Tom has been hoping to meet up with him again, especially since the vampire will probably know more about this Balis guy than any of them will. Paul, after Tom had brought up the idea of contacting Matt, had tried to talk Tom out of it, but it was no use. Tom had been dead set on finding him, and to run into him while out and about only helps him. Tom ends up seeing him at a library in town, it being the only twenty-four hour library in town, and the young brunet practically jumps when he notices the pale ginger hunched over a book in the history section.

“Matt?” Tom tries to keep his voice down when he addresses the vampire- since they’re in a library and all- but it’s hard, considering how excited he is to see him. “Matt, holy crap, is that you!?”

“Huh?” Matt blinks, looking up at Tom in confusion. Upon recognizing him, however, he grins, setting his book aside to stare happily up at the human. “Tom? Goodness, it’s been forever! Sit down, buddy! How’s it been going? How’s Tord?”

Tom smiles up until Tord is mentioned, to which he pales. Matt, noticing this, tilts his head and furrows his brow, a note of concern in his expression. “What’s the matter, chap? Is Tord alright? You didn’t break up with him, did you?”

Tom weakly shakes his head, feeling queasy as he sits down at Matt’s table, unsure of how to even explain this to the vamp. “Tord… got caught… and it wasn’t by the cops,” Tom explains, struggling with his words. “We were in the middle of a heist and… yeah.”

Matt nods in understanding, before reaching over the table to ruffle Tom’s hair. “Isn’t that a bit of bad luck? But lighten up, chum! Knowing Tord, he’ll be back in no time at all! No human could hold him for long… no offense.”

Tom simply shakes his head, ignoring Matt’s attempts at comfort. “It wasn’t a human gang that got him… if it had been, I woulda killed ‘em all by now. No, some jackass called ‘Balis’ or whatever kidnapped him.”

Matt freezes on the spot, shivering. “Yeah, uh, sorry- I’m sorry,” He stutters, looking horrified. “But, did you say just say _Balis_?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tom says, giving Matt a raised eyebrow. “Why, you know him? Matt, if you know where he’s keeping Tord, you gotta-”

“I don’t,” Matt interjects, before Tom can get going. He sighs, giving Tom a very concerned look, sea-blue eyes filled with dread. “Look, Tom, you’re deep into dangerous demon territory here… Balis is not one to be trifled with. However… we can’t let him keep Tord. Lord only knows what he’d do to him,” Finally, he gives Tom a determined look, patting the man on the shoulder for comfort. “I’m not sure of what help I’d be, but I’ll do my best to help you find him. He’s one of my only friends, after all.”

Tom grins, nodding at Matt. “Thanks, man,” He says, glad to finally have another person to help in his search. “Come on; we got work to do!” With that, they head to the mythology section of the library.

…

“Um, sir… can we talk?”

Tom raises an eyebrow at Paul, before nodding at him. He pushes some of his books aside, making enough room for Paul to sit down. It’s almost been two weeks since Tord went missing, and things have been pretty hard lately, but Tom’s been managing to keep going. Matt pops in every so often, bringing with him armload after armload of new books for Tom and the weres to study. Tom appreciates it a lot, especially since he hardly knows what he’s doing. Putting those thoughts aside, Tom puts on a false look of neutrality as Paul takes a seat in front of him, trying desperately to appear strong and authoritative in Tord’s absence.

“What’s up?” Tom asks, trying to seem calm and collected. “Anymore news on finding Tord or beating Balis?”

“Well… no,” Paul admits, and Tom sags immediately, more than a little put out. “It’s just that, I’ve been growing… worried. Red Leader has never been away for this long before… It’s very hard to deal with.”

Tom nods, sympathetic towards the wolf. “I know, buddy,” He says, patting Paul on the knee. “But we’ll find him… it’s only a matter of time.”

But Paul only brushes Tom off, looking angry and a little bit scared. “But what if we don’t!?” He snaps. At once, he goes quiet, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “... I’m sorry, sir. I spoke out of line.”

“Hey, it’s okay, man,” Tom ignores Paul’s rather heated response, knowing that the werewolf hadn’t meant it to sound so accusatory. “It’s been awhile and we’re all really freaking frustrated… but we _are_ going to find him. You know how I know? Because I’m not giving up until we do. I don’t care if Balis is in fucking China; we’re getting our boy back!”

Paul seems to calm down at that, even grinning at Tom’s determination. “... Thank you, sir,” He says after a moment, looking a bit better than he had when he first came in. “That makes me feel a little bit better. I’ll leave you to your work…”

“Oh, come here, you dumb dog,” Tom orders, standing up and hugging Paul, the man immediately shifting into a wolf, nearly crushing Tom as he leans into him. “Okay, whoa, easy there, big guy!” Tom warns, convincing Paul to carry his own weight before he can crush Tom. After a few minutes of hugging, Paul backs up a step. “Feel better?” When Paul nods, Tom smiles and ruffles he werewolf’s fur, secretly having enjoyed the hug. “Now go on, buddy. Go hang with Pat for a bit or something… I’ll man the homefront!”

Paul nods eagerly, practically prancing off in search of his boyfriend. Once he’s gone, Tom sighs, sitting back down with his books. “Back to work.” He murmurs, burying himself back into the book’s pages, desperate to get Tord back.

...

“ _*whimper*_ ”

Tom glances up from his book, giving the dog a pitied look. Hamilton is sitting at the front door to the house, holding the red goat squeaky toy that Tord bought him in his mouth, lightly pawing at the door, waiting for Tord to come home. Tom sighs, setting his book aside. “Come ’ere, boy.” Tom murmurs, patting his thighs in an attempt to get Hamilton to come to him.

Hamilton hesitates, before waddling over to Tom. Grunting, Tom picks the fat corgi up and sets him on his lap, petting Hamilton as he whimpers and whines pitifully. “I know, pup… I miss him, too,” Tom whispers, kissing Hamilton’s forehead to reassure the dog of his safety. “But don’t you worry, boy… we’ll find him. I promise.”

...

It’s been at least two days since Tom has slept- he knows that much- but he can’t bring himself to give a shit. Every minute he sleeps is another minute Tord’s in that filthy Balis fucker’s hands, and he can’t stand the thought of it. So he doesn’t sleep much anymore. Matt and the wolves keep telling him to get some shuteye, to let them do the all nighters, but Tom just brushes them off and keeps going, pouring hours upon hours into books that aren’t giving him any of the answers that he needs or wants. So here he is, tucked under a blanket with Matt on the couch as everyone sits around and reads through books, trying to find some answers.

Tom yawns, eliciting a worried look from everyone else in the room. “Tommy…” Matt pauses, trying to choose his words wisely. “Er, I mean, Tom… you should really go to bed. You can take a few hours to-” Unfortunately, those weren’t the right words to say.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tom grunts, trying to focus on the book as he struggles to see right, his vision blurring every so often. He blinks a few times, willing the dark spots away, before fixing Matt with a harsh glare. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Matt.”

“Well, it’s my job to make sure you’re healthy… and this isn’t healthy, Tom,” Matt manages to continue the argument, not allowing Tom the chance to blow him off. “Would Tord want this?”

Silence.

There’s a long pause, in which no one speaks. Finally, Tom slams his book shut, standing up and fixing Matt with the most angry look he can manage while he’s on the midst of tears. “I’m getting a drink.” He growls, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Wisely, no one gets in his way as he exits the room.

Tom hears Matt let out a sigh of frustration, before the vampire goes back to reading his book. In the meantime, Tom pours a generous amount of smirnoff into his coffee, biting back a grimace as he chugs half the cup in one go, the alcohol burning his throat. He can’t afford to rest… not until he’s got Tord in his arms again. With that thought in mind, he goes back into the living room and reads… he’ll find him. He has to.

…

Tom starts smoking. He had been for a while now, back when Tord was around he had a cigarette with him occasionally. Lately it’s been one every hour or so. The human knows it’s bad for him, what with the carcinogens and all, but actually being able to relax is. It’s better than getting mad at his men over the stupid books.

Hamilton happily pitter patters around him, happy to be outside as he exhales a long stream of smoke and struggles to think of when he started referring to Paul and Pat as ‘his men’, but he can’t find the time or place in his memories. 

He takes another drag of his cigarette, closing his eyes and allowing the warmth to flood through him.

…

It’s been almost three weeks now. None of them have given up, but the lack of sleep is starting to get to all of them, so Patryk said today ought to be a rest day. Both wolves are curled up around Tom, who, despite saying he was going to sleep, pours the quiet hours of this early morning over a musty tome in search of… anything. At this point he was pretty hellbent on finding Tord as soon as possible.

He flips a few pages in frustration with his thumb, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning while he does so. Tom’s looked in this particular book a few times. It had looked so promising, small and worn, with several different spells and enchantments: the human had hoped there’d be something he could try to use to locate the Norwegian that he and his men care so deeply for. 

By the time he’s done turning the pages randomly he’s landed on a page bookmarked by a single black feather, probably by Paul or Pat, but it’s enough to make him pause. He picks it up delicately, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. It’s the feather Tord gave him, he’s pretty sure. Unless his furry companions got them from the demon at some point, which he doubts. 

With a long sigh and after running his fingers through Paul’s soft fur, he’s back to researching, looking down on the page that was held. 

Tom’s pretty sure his heart stops. 

A diagram with a circle, some instructions, but most of all the word teleport, written pretty small next to the main diagram in the center. He has no idea how he missed this, after so long… But there’s time to berate himself later. Right now he takes this opportunity to stand up quickly and whoop with joy, holding up the book in one hand and the feather in the other.

“Wha-?” Paul murmurs, confused after being woken up so quickly and loudly. Patryk is awake as well, but he just curls in more on himself and nuzzles his head slightly against Paul. Tom turns and grabs Paul’s fluffy face with both hands, smiling wide despite his friend’s shock.

“I know how to find Tord.”

...

“Sir, you know I hate to question your authority-”

“Then don’t.” Tom quips, cutting Paul off. The wolf remains silent, but the other pipes up, adjusting the pack on his back as he watches their leader carefully draw on the concrete floor of the alley they’ve found themselves in. 

“Thomas, I don’t think it’s right to be tampering with these kinds of things,” Tom grunts, so Patryk continues, urgency clear in his voice. “The circles and sigils in these books are powerful, only to be harnessed by wizards who’ve been practicing the magickal arts for years, honing-” 

The human throws a bored expression over his shoulder, void-like eyes stopping the werewolf’s words of caution. “I’ve been told I’m ‘wise beyond my years’. I’m pretty sure I can manage to draw a circle with a piece of chalk.”

“But do we really have to be doing this in an alley? It’s not exactly legal to be carrying this many guns in public.”

Tom gives Pat an incredulous look. “Since when do you give a shit about if ‘something is legal’? Thing about the portal is that after we go through we’ll be able to use it to get back. There’s a possibility we could lead fucking hellspawn into our house, so, yeah, no thanks.”

Patryk huffs, and Paul whimpers. “I think he’s just saying it’s dangerous, sir.” The burlier were lifts a hand up to his scarred eye subconsciously, and alright, Tom does feel a small pang of guilt at that. He looks away quickly, though, determined not to show the wolves his concern.

“This will work,” He declares, looking from the diagram in the tome to the chalk drawing on the floor. It looked identical. “Even if this kind of thing can be dangerous, the instructions are pretty clear. And the sigil is simple. We’ll be fine,” He looks back to his friends, expression confident and hopeful. “We’re gonna get Tord back.” Tom just wants them to believe him. Fuck, he wants to believe himself.

In all honesty, Tom is scared as shit. A handful of months ago he didn’t believe in demons, werewolves, vampires- And he certainly didn’t believe in magic circles that you can draw on the ground to take you to your boyfriend. But now he not only believes in that shit, he’s fucking relying on it to not teleport him into a wall and slice him in half.

Tom lends a critical eye to his chalk sigil, making a few extra marks here and there before declaring it perfect. He stands and claps his hands a few times to rid them of the white dust, turning back to his boys. “You guys have everything we need?” 

A couple of ‘yessir’s and Tom nods to himself, smirking as he reaches for Tord’s skull mask, putting it on over his own face, black eyes resembling hollow sockets, giving the mask an even eerier look than it had before. 

Silently, Tom pulls out a knife, holding it in his left hand while extending his right out in front of him, so it’s over the center of the circle. He watches as the two lycanthropes do the same, donning their masks and readying their knives. Gently, Tom knocks his knuckles against each of theirs. _This’ll work._

A quick nod and all three of them are sliding the blades along their open palms, drawing thin lines of scarlet blood free from their flesh. Tom grips his hand tight, watching the blood drip into the center of the circle, and as it intermingles with his companion’s blood, the white circle starts to give off a faint light.

“It- It’s really working!” Paul murmurs in awe, while Patryk only nods, wide eyed.

“Bandage yourselves quickly,” Tom hisses while wrapping a thin cloth around his own palm. “We only have so much time before we have to go. Ready your weapons, and keep calm. It’s impossible to predict where exactly this’ll put us. The diagram only says we’ll be within 500 meters of the target.” He says this all while Paul and Patryk dress their fresh cuts and he himself pulls out the black feather that Tord gave him. They really only did have one shot at this. 

One last nod from the two wolves, and Tom drops the feather, and all three watch it's slow descent with baited breath. As soon as it lands, though, the light on the floor brightens impossibly, and Tom feels as though the floor has fallen out from underneath his feet.

...

After the glow from the portal finally starts to dim, Tom sits up quickly, doing his best to assess his surroundings as quickly as possible. The light has left spots dancing in his eyes, though. He can’t see. So he stops to just listen for a moment, and all he hears is groaning and retching, causing his own nausea to rise. 

“Eurgh,” Tom groans, willing his gut to still. “Paul? Pat? You two alright?” 

“Yeah,” A Polish accent whispers from his left, and when he turns, he can barely make out two figures intermingled with the eye floaters. “We’re alright, Paul’s just losing his lunch.” A couple soft words in Russian are cooed as if to calm the other wolf. Despite being mostly just a silhouette to Tom, Paul still manages to look grateful. 

Looking around slowly, Tom strains his eyes but still can’t see anything. “I can’t see very well right now thanks to the bright light, do either of you have good visuals?” Both silhouettes seem to nod, so he does the same. “Where are we at?”

“I think we’re in an office or something. It’s small, a bit smaller than the basement.” Patryk informs slowly, taking in the space himself as he speaks. “The same sigil we used is on the floor, but burned into the carpet. Nobody else is in here, and it’s pretty dark.” 

Paul pipes up finally, but his voice is a little hoarse. “There’s one door in here. If you turn about 30 degrees to your right you’ll be facing it head on. It has one window, but the glass is frosted, so we can’t see out but nobody should be able to see in”

“Alright,” Tom says uneasily. It sounds like this is a good room to plan their assault from, as long as they’re careful. The one issue is that an office building might be full of innocents. “Do either of you have a cell phone? I want to know the time, and see if you can get a GPS to work.” 

Both figures nod, and Tom lies back down. He needs to get his vision back if they’re going to be doing anything, so he slides his eyes shut and listens as both weres clack their claws against phones and try and get the information he asked for. It’d be nice if he wasn’t sporting such an awful headache, too.

“That’s weird...” Paul mutters, and Tom feels his gut sink. “I left with a full charge, but my phone’s dead.” Patryk whispers a small ‘same’, and despite lying flat on his back and with his eyes closed, he knows they’re both looking at him for an order or something to do.

He rubs his hands over his eyes hard, willing himself to think through the pain. “Great, uh,” He peaks one open to test his vision and it’s a bit blurry but he can make it work. “Okay. So this room is where we’re gonna be able to get back home so we gotta protect it. Get any desks or tables and flip ‘em over as quiet as you can,” Without even looking Tom starts loading ammunition into his shotgun, running his hands over the weapon efficiently. “When I can finally see properly I’ll take a peek outside, try and see if there are many non-hostiles around. I don’t wanna murder anyone we don’t gotta.”

Patryk and Paul, god bless them both, just start working as he talks, following his instructions to the letter and giving off little noises of affirmation. In a matter of minutes Tom’s able to see clearly and everything is upturned to provide cover. The wolves hardly made a sound.

Once again their eyes are on him, so Tom moves forward to the door. Both wolves tense as he presses his ear to the wooden surface, trying to hear anything from the other side. “I don’t hear a thing,” He whispers. “I’m gonna take a look, alright?”

“Yessir.” They do their best to stand at attention, but both are shifting uneasily in place. One final nod, and Tom slowly opens the door. 

He sees nothing but a long hallway with more doors like this one, all with a single window and no lights. The entire hall is dimmed, with the only light coming from all the way at the end when it splits off in two directions. 

Honestly, Tom should dip back in and discuss what he’s about to do, but instead he takes a deep breath and pokes his whole head out to look the other direction down the hallway. 

Really shouldn’t have done that, He berates himself when he comes practically face to face with a burly looking guard holding a gun in his hands and bearing an expression similar to a rotten pumpkin that’s slumped in on itself. 

Thankfully the guard seems to be as ugly as he is stupid, because Tom’s able to slowly go back behind the door and shut it before he’s shot dead. 

“What was out there, Blue Leader?” Patryk whispers, pausing for a moment before speaking again out of concern. “Sir? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

By this point Ugly-and-Stupid has managed to get his brain working and he’s jiggling the doorknob fiercely, causing all three of them to jump. “Well I wouldn’t call him a ghost,” Tom mutters nervously, holding the door shut with both hands. “But uh, yeah, we have company already.”

Patryk sputters. “Who is that? Do they have a weapon?”

“Dunno.” A beat. “Yes.” Tom’s straining to hold the door shut, because it turns out this guy is actually stupidly strong, as well as stupidly... Stupid. Tom likes to think he’s good at coming up with insults even while being shaken from the other side of the door.

“Well, what’s the plan?” Patryk isn’t helping exactly either. 

“Uh,” But before Tom can quip out a cunning response Paul grabs the door handle from him and lightly shoves him to the side. While Tom had been almost thrown to the floor just by holding on, Paul doesn’t even move an inch except for his muscles straining underneath his uniform. 

The knob jiggling suddenly stops, and Tom looks back and forth between his two men with worry. Had the guy gone and gotten reinforcements? But Pat doesn’t look worried and Paul just smirks for a second before twisting the knob, and-

“Paul!” Tom panics. “He has a gun!” But then the human notices that Paul’s been slowly shifting this whole time, and he’s got his claws fully bared by the time he opens the door. Paul steps outside, allowing his entire shape to shift so that when he’s in the hall he’s almost touching the ceiling. 

The guard managed to make it a few feet down the hall, but as soon as he heard the door opening he turned with his gun in hand and ready to fire. Though, when he’s met face to face with a giant werewolf, his entire face pales and comically slacks, jaw dropping and mouth hanging out wide. 

Paul goes to move forward, barely even moving a paw before the guard drops his gun and faints. “Probably not a demon.” The werewolf chuckles and Tom joins in.

“Or at least one who hasn’t seen a werewolf before. C’mon,” He steps out with Paul and straps his shotgun on his back as he strides over to check the guard for anything they could use to find Tord. 

Pat stands next to him, watching one end of the hall while Paul goes to check out the other. “You think a simple guard like this has any information on a hostage?” Tom shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets, pulling out a wallet and some keys. They look like they’re probably just car keys, and the wallet just has a few photos of the guy and his kids. As well as fifty-two dollars, which Tom takes with a smirk. “I can’t believe you.” Patryk hisses but Tom shrugs.

“Look, he could’ve shot me. Gotta pay the hospital bills, man.”

 

A pause. “He didn’t shoot you though.” Patryk points out, but Tom ignores him in favor of running his hands inside the guard’s jacket to see if…

“Bingo,” He pulls out a small note, small and folded and stained with coffee or something. Tom starts unfolding it and Patryk looks over his shoulder as he does, revealing that the note is an envelope with a wax seal that’s been broken and chipped at. 

Patryk crouches down to get a better look with the Brit. “You think it’s…?” Tom shrugs and opens it, reaching inside to pull out a piece of parchment with a bunch of messy squiggles made in blue pen. It’s unintelligible.

“Damn, I can’t make it out,” The curse goes ignored, though, because Patryk pulls the letter out of his hand and starts examining it further.

“It’s Russian, but it’s in cursive. Not my strong suit but I can probably…” He trails off, squinting and doing his best to translate in English. “ ‘ _Prisoner on the top floor with the,_ fuck, what- Oh, ‘ _with the boss. Don’t go upstairs if you don’t wanna get_ , nnn,” He shrugs and looks at Tom. “ ‘ _Gutted’_? I dunno that last word but I’ll assume it’s gotta mean something bad. A reason not to go upstairs.” 

Tom’s just smiling at Patryk once he’s done and the wolf lets his shoulders slump. “A reason not to, Tom.” The human smiles wider, sliding the mask back down over his face. “The top floor is probably littered with demons, and I bet every floor leading up to it is crawling with guards, too!”

The smaller goes to answer, but a small ‘boof’ from the other end of the hallway gets both his and Patryk’s attention. Paul pokes his wolfy head around the corner. “Good thing there’s an elevator over here, then!” Patryk sighs, but follows when Tom begins to stride over.

“Let’s go get our boy back,” The Brit punctuates the statement by pumping his shotgun with a confident _click-clunk_.

...

The elevator dings softly when they finally get up to the first floor, but they don’t expect the door to open up to something so… Serene. 

It’s a long conference hall, gigantic table made to fit one hundred people and all. At the very end of the table, though, directly opposed from the elevator is a small gathering of about 20 people, all of which are wearing suits and talking to each other rapidly in hushed tones, until they turn to regard the new arrivals with varying levels of silent disdain.

Each individual in the room has either wings, horns, feathers, fangs: you name it and some fucker in there probably has it, except for the guy at the head of the table. He looks relatively human, the only big difference is that he’s fucking huge, probably around seven feet tall. He’s the only one seated amongst the rabble of demons and he’s the last to look up at the newcomers. His steely gaze makes Tom’s spine shiver, but he clenches his fist and tilts his head to stare the boss down.

“Hey!” Tom shouts, raising his shotgun fiercely (or at least he hopes he looks fierce, this guy is nearly twice his size). “Release Tord and nobody has to get hurt.” A couple of the demons’ sneers turn to wicked grins and Tom’s stomach sinks. The big guy in the center braces his hands on the table and stands himself up slowly, adjusting his dress jacket as he does so.

“Tord?” He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “And what would a simple human want to do with a runaway whelpling like that? Does he owe you something, or-” He pauses, raising his nose as if smelling something in the air. “Oh, I see, you're his pups and his snack, right? You lot can call me Balis, I-”

As soon as he says his name Tom and Patryk open fire on the crew of demons, taking out a few before the monsters have time to retaliate. When the opposite side starts to shoot back, the trio slip to the sides and take cover in the elevator. They must have shot Balis, because his voice has the smallest hint of pain in it as he shouts orders at the demons. 

In-between bursts of gunfire, Tom and Patryk take some time to dip out and shoot, but don’t do much before Balis has his henchmen more organized in holding down a proper suppressing fire and neither of the infiltrators can fire back.

“Shit!” Tom hisses, reloading his shotgun and watching the bullets connect with the wall of the elevator. “There’s no way we can retaliate when he’s this good at commanding his men, they outnumber us by a lot.”

Patryk nods and looks to the elevator panel he’s nearly pressed up against. “Should we go back down and regroup?” But Tom shakes his head, mask that’s a bit too big wiggling with the movement.  
“I’m sure Balis has told everybody else on all the floors below us that we’re here, no doubt they’ll outnumber us down there, too.” As the elevator doors start to slide shut a bit Tom dips his foot out to stop it but yelps when he nearly loses a toe.

“So what’s the plan, then, boss?” Paul’s still in his werewolf form, towering over both his companions and barely managing to stay in cover. The human knits his brows together as he tries to figure out what to do, both the wolves staring at him expectantly.

“Trying to figure it out,” He growls through grit teeth, shutting his eyes as his headache starts to kick back in double what it was when they first arrived. No matter how much he racks his brain he can’t think of anything. 

“Blue leader,” Patryk hisses but goes ignored. “Blue. Blue. Tom!” He finally ends up shouting to get the Brit’s attention.

Tom slams a fist into the wall behind him, violently swinging to the side to address the Polish man. “What?!?”

Patryk narrows his eyes behind his mask, and gestures to the door. “They’ve stopped shooting, should we-” But he’s interrupted when several demons fling themselves into the cramped elevator, attacking whoever they can get their claws on. Paul has three on him and snaps at them all with sharp fangs, while Patryk pulls his knife out and starts peeling a fourth off the fully shifted were. 

There are two that try and corner Tom, but he kicks one back out the door and manages to dodge when the other tries to bite at him. He’s afraid to open fire on the hellbeast with his shotgun; Tom doesn’t want to hurt his men if he can help it. In a split second decision, he rolls to the side and leaves the elevator, firing at the demon and tearing it in two once it’s followed him out. 

No time to celebrate, though, when the last few demons that stayed in the main hall with Balis start shooting at him again. Tom ducks, being able to hide behind the table and then underneath, scrambling his way down the length of the table. One demon pulls several chairs out to try and get to him, so he shoots the fucker in the knee and then in his ugly face when he falls to the ground. 

“Human,” Balis calls out, confident despite his men’s dwindling numbers. “Let’s settle this face-to-face, yes? ‘Like men’?” Tom rolls his void-like eyes and manages to gun another demon down from underneath the table before two clawed hands find themselves on his ankles. He rolls onto his back and shoots the demon in the chest as he’s pulled out.

Two more demons pounce on him and manage to peel his mask off and scratch his face before being bulldozed off of him by a raging werewolf. He sits up, looking around for anything that could lead to Tord. Eventually his eyes settle on a couple of crates stacked up in a corner. He goes to move and investigate, but suddenly his stomach twists and it feels like all the blood in his body simultaneously freezes and boils. Involuntarily, his body stands on its own and drops his shotgun to the floor.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” He screams and instantly all of the blood in his body pushes right and he’s flung into the wall, slamming into it hard enough to dent the plaster. Tom groans lowly, but he can’t move his hand to nurse his hurt shoulder or growing headache. He thinks he might throw up, if he can even manage to do that.

“That looks like it hurt,” Balis’s deep voice mocks from behind the Brit, and instead of turning around on his own, his body is lifted into the air and twisted painfully so he’s looking directly at the demon, now sporting horns and a few spines on his shoulders. Balis sneers from a few feet away, hand raised and moving slightly to the same movements Tom’s body is forced to make. “Do you like this trick? Demons that are further up on the ladder are much stronger than those on the bottom.” He flexes his fingers and every muscle in the human’s body tenses in agonizing pain. All he can do is scream.

Balis walks over slowly, smirking as more demons flood in the room to occupy Patryk and Paul, who are trying to make their way back to Tom through the sea of claws and wings. The human glares angrily at the large demon as he lessens the pain he’s inflicting. 

“Don’t bother getting angry if you actually want to think of a way of defeating me,” He smirks softly as he regards Tom. “Negative emotion is just like physical contact for the whelp. Just makes me stronger,” He allows his hold to lessen slightly and watches as Tom struggles while being suspended in the air by the demon’s magic. “Not much point in struggling either, so how about we chat for a bit?”

 

Tom narrows his eyes, but stops thrashing about. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but instead he hocks a loogie right into Balis’s face. The demon seethes and Tom laughs, but his amusement is cut short when the demon actually grabs the Brit with his own hand around his neck, squeezing and choking the human until the edges of his vision get dark.

Before he’s able to pass out, though, Paul and Patryk have finally defeated all the demons and are rushing at Balis full speed, pounding their paws against the polished floor. The demon clicks his tongue and drops Tom on the floor, turning on the wolves before they get to him and shifting into what Tom assumes is his full demon form. His claws get bigger, and his flesh pales drastically. His forehead, nose, and eyes are all replaced by this stringy mass of flesh that connects his horns. 

When the werewolves reach him he grabs them both by their muzzles, picking them both up and raising them above his head before slamming them back down with exceptional force. He holds them there for a bit, laughing darkly when Paul blacks out and shifts back into his human form. Balis is about to bring his fist down and crush the werewolf, but Patryk catches his fist in his claw and slashes his exposed chest. The demon turns all his attention to the werewolf that is currently trying to snap at his face and horns.

During all of this, Tom catches his breath and peels himself off the floor, limping over to the crates and almost crying in relief when Tord is there, passed out on the floor.

“Tord,” He whispers, crawling up to his boyfriend and holding his bruised and scratched face in one hand. As soon as he’s touched, Tord snaps awake and bares his claws, but his face softens at the sight of Tom. 

 

“Tom!” He shouts, unbelieving. “How did you find me?” The Brit smirks weakly. 

“Looked through all your books, found a way to port to you. But, Tord, how can we defeat Balis? He heals from aggression, how can we stop him and save you?”

The demon gestures to the floor, and when Tom looks he sees a circle made of copper bolted to the floor and surrounding Tord. “Break the circle, I can’t move until it’s gone. I can stop Balis if I get out.” Tom nods and gets started sawing a break in the circle with his knife. The human can feel his headache worsen and he knows he’ll black out soon, but he has to get Tord out before he’s useless to his whole team. 

“Tom, are you alright? You look like you’re wavering, babe,” Tom turns to him to assure him he’s fine, but when he looks to his boyfriend, Tord’s looking behind the human in fear. He’d ask what’s wrong, but he’s pretty sure he knows when a clawed hand grabs him by the hood of his hoodie and lifts him off the ground. He struggles despite being in pain and tired.

“I’ll give this to you, Tord,” Balis hisses, voice reverberating oddly now that he’s in his full demon form. “You’ve certainly landed yourself a loyal crew, as well as a stupid one. Why would beings as determined as these try and save a pathetic little whelp like you?” He’s about to continue, but with the last bit of strength he can muster, Tom whirls around and cracks his fist as hard as he can square into the fleshy part of Balis’s face. He shouts out in pain, grabbing Tom’s arm with his free hand and breaking it like a toothpick. The human doesn't have time to cry out before Balis cracks his horns against Tom’s head. Hard. Somewhere far away Tord calls out to Tom as he feels searing hot pain rip through his head and all the way down his spine. His whole head must rattle because his teeth ache and feel like they’re being pulled.

Balis drops him and as soon as he’s on the ground he clutches his head, screwing his eyes shut and trying to stop the involuntary shaking of his body. Every inch of his flesh feels like it’s on fire, and he knows he’s about to black out, especially when he opens his eyes and the world around him suddenly looks like he’s looking through a weird lens or a fish eye. Despite hurting all over, Tom manages to pull himself up a bit to look at Tord hopefully, willing the demon to find some way to escape. 

But when he looks at Tord, he’s staring right back at him, eyes wide and amazed at something probably behind the Brit on the floor. He wishes he had the strength to turn around, but when he looks up at Balis a sudden surge of rage and pain causes him to finally slip out of consciousness. 

...

“I think I’m dreaming, again,” Tom says aloud to Tord, who’s sitting next to him on a giant stained glass window. Two huge, pale hands with long claws slip out of the darkness from behind the demon, and he turns to see them, then slowly turns back to the human.

“I think you might be right.” And suddenly the pale hands are grabbing onto Tord and dragging him away. Tom calls out and extends a hand to save him, but screams when he sees that his hand has been replaced with a leathery and scaly purple-clawed paw. He holds both of his now paws up to his face, shouting in confusion. What happened to his hands? How is he going to wear bracelets now??

He looks down to see if anything else about him has changed, but he sees nothing out of the ordinary except his hand-paws. “I have to save Tord,” Tom recalls, but as soon as he takes a step towards where his boyfriend was dragged off to, the stained glass platform underneath him shatters into a million flower petals.

He yelps in surprise, plummeting down in the dark space amidst the colorful petals of red, blue, green, and purple… More colors intermingle with them but he ignores them when he sees Tord falling too, a little ways away. He calls out, but when he opens his mouth, only weird growls and clicks come out. Tord must hear him, though, because he flies over and flies with the Brit as he falls.

“Are you alright, Tom?” He asks as if everything that’s going on is normal. 

Tom tries to express his displeasure with the situation but he can’t even understand what he himself is-

“You’re not? Sorry about that, friend,” Tom smiles, happy that his boyfriend is so smart and always there for him. Except he wasn’t, for a while. A few times now, like when he was in the hospital and when he got stolen by Balis. As soon as he thinks of the demon he feels really angry and Tord creases his brow in worry. “Is there any way I can help you, Thomas?” But Tom just shakes his head.

Tom flails his paws in Tord’s direction, trying to get Tord to fly closer so he has something to grab onto and can maybe stop falling. After a minute of him struggling like this Tord pipes up. “Hey, it’s been awhile since I hugged you at all, can I hug you? I kind of really miss it.”

Tom tries to say yes a million times but it’s still just grumbling that somehow Tord can understand. As soon as the demon puts his arms around the human, though, he instantly calms down as he wraps his own arms around the Norwegian. 

It’s not so bad that we’re falling, Tom thinks as they plummet, and far below them he can see a bed of beautiful red flowers. Tord tells him they’re poppies. Rapidly they descend, headfirst toward the red petals as Tord quietly whispers in Tom’s ear, just before they hit:

“I really missed you, Tom.”

...

Tom wakes with a start, entire body flinching once as he comes to from his odd dream. Frantically, he looks around and tries to sit up and assess his situation, before a pair of arms around his middle tighten slightly, and he pauses. From the looks of things, he’s laid out in the back of a car, and Tord is curled up with him and- _holy shit what_.

The Brit runs a hand through his boyfriend’s hair, smiling when Tord pushes his head into it like a cat. It’s been so long since he’s seen him like this, all cuddly and calm. It’s been a long time since he’s seen the Norski _period_.

“Tom?” Pat whispers from the front of the car and Tom tries not to be overwhelmed from the familiarity of it all. “You awake? Here,” A hand reaches back and hands Tom a water bottle which he thankfully accepts and begins to quench his thirst. “D’you remember anything that happened?” 

He thinks about that for a moment as he drinks his water. Did he remember? A bit, he supposes, but probably not much. Tom relays that to Patryk, who nods worriedly. “For now just drink, we can figure it all out later. We’ll be home within the hour.” Tom nods and lies back down with Tord, giving himself a chance to finally relax.

It’s been awhile since he got proper rest, and he can’t even remember when the last time he got to lie down with Tord was, so he’ll fucking take it right now. Behind him, he feels Tord begin to stir, slowly, but eventually he’s awake and purring into Tom’s ear with pleasure from their current cuddle session.

“Hey,” He breathes against the small human’s neck. “How you holdin’ up?” 

“I’m actually pretty good, I had such a bad headache earlier but now I don’t have one at all,” Tom shrugs, before asking, “What happened with Balis?” 

Tord takes a little too long to answer. “Balis won’t be bothering us anymore.” He leaves it at that, and Tom doesn’t miss the quick exchange of glances from the two up front before they turn back to the road. The car is silent again, except for the radio faintly playing some tune Tom thinks he’s heard in a supermarket maybe.

He goes to turn toward Tord, tired of the silence, but the demon holds him gently in place. Tom huffs but obliges. “Say what you want, just. Just don't turn around or move too much,” Tord asks quietly and buries his face into his hair. “I'm really tired and I really, really need this right now.” Tom nods and leans back into the touch more.

“What really happened to Balis?” Tord's about to speak but Tom clicks his tongue and cuts him off. “Tell me what really happened or I'll keep worrying about him.” The Norwegian huffs but nods.

“You're not wrong to be worried, honestly. Balis is... He’s a strong demon. I mean, you witnessed it first hand, Thomas. He can control humans and lesser demons using the blood in their bodies and he heals himself with their aggression and negative emotion. He's a nasty piece of work,” A beat of silence, then Tord's clearing his throat with a nervous cough. “I should know, since we were,” He shrugs, looking for the words. “Yeah.”

As the demon trails off Tom turns his head to glare out of the corner of his eye, exasperated. “Are you honestly telling me you were involved with that piece of shit?” Tord groans but nods. There's a pause, before Tom asks, “Like, romantically, or-”

“Does that part really matter??” He yells a bit and Patryk shushes him from the front seat. Tord grumbles but obliges. “It's not an important detail and I don't care to elaborate. It's more than over, though.”

Tom hums in understanding, running the pad of his thumb along Tord's knuckles. In an effort to make light of the situation, Tom chuckles. “Anyone else I ought to know about?” But Tord shakes his head.

“Not anyone awful like Balis, really, but I mean, I've been alive for a few thousand,” He shrugs like it's no big deal. “So I've been around. Actually, you should meet Kel sometime. He's a good guy and probably the nicest of all my exes. He can just get a bit...”

Paul pipes up from the driver's seat. “Eccentric? Lively? Quirky?” He supplies the adjectives but Tord just shrugs.

“There's not really a good word for what Kelvin is. He's a unique kind of guy.”

Tom snorts. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah.” The demon nuzzles into the nape of Tom's neck, smiling against the skin. “I'm pretty into you, right now.” And Tom laughs. It's good to have Tord back.

“But yeah, Balis is- He really won't be bothering us for a while. Once demons have been ‘killed’,“ He makes quotation marks with his hands. “They’re stuck in Hell for a while. And honestly I don’t think Balis will wanna fuck with us after what happened.” 

This gets Tom’s interest, especially because Tord freezes slightly like he’s said the wrong thing. “What happened, exactly?”

Instead of taking too long to respond, Tord’s response is instant. “I don’t remember much. I went into a, uh. Rage. Or something,” Tom notices Paul drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “I know a lot about Balis though, so I mean. His weak spot is that fleshy exposed bit on his face. I probs just tore into him and he poofed like demons do when they’re toast.” Patryk cracks his knuckles. 

Tom nods warily, trying to assure himself that Tord wouldn’t lie to him. He sighs and intertwines his fingers with Tord’s, bringing one of his knuckles up to his mouth and kisses it softly. “I really missed you,” He confesses quietly, hoping only the demon will hear. 

Just as quiet, Tord responds with an, “I missed you, too.” And kisses the back of Tom’s neck just as soft as the human’s kiss to his hand. 

They smile, content and wrapped up in one another.

...

They park at a Burger King on the way home, mostly because Tom wouldn't shut up about needing something to eat before his stomach eats itself.

“I still think Wendy's is better.” Patryk complains, feet kicked up on the dashboard while he reclines in the driver's seat, lazily chewing through a cheeseburger.

“Wendy's sucks,” Paul shoots back, not having any of Patryk's shit. “You know what's really bad though? Fuckin’ White Castle.”

That earns a chorus of agreed grunts from everyone in the van. “Well, I like Burger King, so that’s what we’re eating,” Tord announces, trying to put an end to the werewolves’ commentary. “And I do not want to hear another thing about it, understand?”

Everyone shuts up pretty quick after that, the silence only broken by the sound of chewing maws. “You've got something on your chin,” Tom points out at one point, reaching up a thumb to wipe off a bit of ketchup from Tord's face. “You're gross.” He declares after realizing it's his least favorite condiment.

“Says the man who covers everything he eats in barbeque sauce and salt,” Tord snaps, rolling his eyes at Tom's taste in food. “I swear, your blood must be nothing but garbage.” At that, he inches forward and takes Tom's thumb into his mouth, sucking off the ketchup.

There’s a soft chuckle from the front seat, and Tord whips around to glare at the werewolves up front. “You two got something to say?” He asks, a low hiss escaping his mouth, despite his smile.

Paul and Patryk just grin, chuckling under their breaths at the domesticity of it all. “Oh, nothing,” Patryk murmurs, smirking all the while. “Just admiring the lovebirds.”

“Eat a cock.” Tom orders, earning more giggles before the weres wisely enough leave them be, beginning to converse quietly to one another in Russian.

There’s another long pause, the van filled with a comfortable silence between the lot of them. Eventually, however, Tord grows sick of it and pops the question that everyone’s been thinking. “We can’t go back to base,” He declares, after giving himself enough time to mull over his words. However, he speaks again quickly, clarifying what he means. “I mean, we will of course go back for the puppy and our belongings, however… we cannot stay there any longer. While Balis is indeed no longer a threat to us, his friends no doubt are, and I don’tt wish to put our home in danger.”

“So where next? The riverfront?” Paul suggests, wanting nothing more than to lay low in one of their more rural bases; he’d love the chance to run around in the woods again, no doubt.

“Too mucky,” Tord says, earning the smallest of pitiful whimpers from Paul, who’s quickly shushed by Patryk’s comforting nuzzles. “Hm… how about the lab? We haven’t been there in a few months, not to mention that all of my old inventions should still be there… yes, the lab would do very nicely indeed! It’s settled; we’ll pick up little Hamilton, grab our gear, and then settle back down in the lab!”

“The lab? What’s that place like?” Tom asks, curious of where he’ll be living. He’s got to admit that he’ll miss the old base, but maybe this one could be a fresh start for them? Yeah, that would actually be really nice.

“It’s in the middle of the city,” Patryk explains, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s not my favorite spot, but it’s one of our most secure locations, especially when facing against the supernatural.”

“You see? It’s the perfect spot!” Tord promises, nuzzling Tom gently in the side. “Do not worry, sweetness, we will settle there in no time!”

“Sweetness? What are you, forty-five?” Tom jokes, amused by Tord’s ridiculous little pet name. At least it’s better than Tommy.

“A little bit older, actually,” Tord says, downplaying how old he really is. “But that doesn’t matter… God, you’re going to love it, Tom. We set up a birds nest a few years ago, no doubt it’s still up there… you can see the whole city from there.”

“Sounds nice,” Tom murmurs, lying against Tord as he yawns, belly full and mind content. “Bet you could see the woods from there, too.” He’s dozing off and he knows it, but it’s hard not to when Tord’s got his arms wrapped around him, the demon warming himself as feathers sprout from his lanky arms.

Before Tom can even hear them, Paul and Patryk have joined in on the cuddling, both turned into wolves as Patryk and Paul spoon the two men. Tom yawns, tuckered out after over a month of stressing out of over Tord, and with a sigh, he falls asleep with his crew.

...

After unpacking all of their belongings into the base, Tord drags Tom into the basement with him, informing him that he needs a check-up for his meds. The human silently follows, smiling as he’s led down to the lab and allowing his eyes to widen in awe when he sees it all. “Wow,” He says, dumbly, looking at all sorts of inventions at the one end of the room while the other end has things like beakers, vials, and other sorts of instruments for chemical study. 

“It’s nice, yes?” Tord sighs in contentment, running his hands over some sleek, red, metal structure in a corner. “I’ve missed this base a lot, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here. Feel free to take a look around while I set up for your assessment.” 

Tom looks around the lab, a little impressed. He passes by a table and stares down at it. The only thing on it is a dildo with a grenade duct taped to it.

"What's this?"

Tord looks up from his papers. "Oh... That's just a prototype,” He sets the papers down and fiddles with a table until it’s sitting up like a reclined chair. “Have a seat, Tom. How have you been feeling since you’ve started taking your medicine? Your eyes hurt much?”

“I’ve been feeling a lot better, honestly,” He shrugs but hops onto the table. “Just get my headaches once in awhile, and sometimes if they’re real bad I black out. Been feeling much better, though.” Tord nods and writes a few notes on a clipboard.

“I was worried those would be side effects. We’ll probably increase your dosage, just to get this moving along. Let me know if you notice anything else at all.” Tom nods, stretching his arms over his head.

“You done playing doc yet?” Tord snorts at the question, shaking his head and reaching around for his bag of medical supplies. “Jeez, you’re stocked like a hospital, what’s all this for?” 

“When you’re a demon, you can’t really go to normal hospitals. If I really need medical attention I have to get here and do whatever I can to myself.” 

Tom whistles lowly in surprise. “Sounds like a pain, man,” The demon just nods and tells Tom to remove his shirt so he can look over his body for wounds from their little rescue mission. The human smirks. “No need to be so shy about it, Tord.” 

His shirt comes off in one quick motion and he tries not to notice that Tord is staring at him, eyes looking lovestruck while he examines the smaller’s scars on his chest. Tom tries not to blush when Tord reaches out and runs his thumbs along one carefully, like he’s scared he’ll break the human.

“You don’t need to be so gentle, Tord,” Tom mutters, avoiding the intense gaze. “I’m not gonna shatter or anything. I got these battle scars to prove it, ya’know.”

“I know,” He says, hastily, bringing his hand back in his own space and clutching at his clipboard. “I know you’re strong, I just,” Tord smiles up at the human sheepishly. “You’re just really gorgeous you know.” 

Tom’s blush covers his whole face. “I,” He sputters, suddenly self conscious. “Fuck, that was pretty gay, Tord.” The demon just laughs.

Things are finally starting to feel normal again.

 

...

“Uh, Tom?” Tord questions from the kitchen’s entrance, staring down at the human, who’s sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge. It’s been less than four days since Tord’s increased his medicine dosage but he’s found himself eating a lot more since he’s been told to take additional medicine. In front of himself Tom has laid out various foods, including an entire tub of ice cream, chips and cheese, several litres of Dr. Pepper, cheetos, and uncooked brownie mix, which he’s currently spooning into his mouth.

“Alright, so,” He says around the spoon. “I am fucking starving and I also have way too much energy, I ran twelve laps around the block,” He reaches over and grabs a pop tart, slathering it with mayonnaise and scarfing it down as if his life depended on it. “Don’t ask me about the weird food, though, man, I’m just making do with what we have.” 

“I’ll just chalk this down as another unfortunate side effect,” Tord mutters as he wrinkles his nose in disgust while Tom dips his mayo-y pop tart into the brownie mix, then sprinkles cheetos on top. “I think I’m just gonna leave you to it, then.” But before he can get out the door Tom is shouting at him to pick up pickles, lunchmeat, and strawberry jam. The human laughs when Tord shudders at the idea of it.

...

“I’m just saying that it is getting too dangerous, my friend!” Tord shouts, focusing on the road ahead of them. They’re all on the way home from a heist, and Paul and Patryk are in the backseat asleep, giving Tord and Tom some time to themselves. Unfortunately, that time is being spent arguing.

“What do you even mean!? No one got shot this time, and now that Balis and his bitches are outta the way, we can heist without any problems!” Tom shoots back, angry with Tord for trying to start shit when they should be celebrating.

“I just… I can’t bear to lose you…” Tord murmurs, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

That just pisses Tom off even more. “ _Are you fucking kidding me!?_ ” He shouts, ignoring the wolves as the shift in the backseat, disturbed by Tord and Tom’s arguing. “I thought we went over this forever ago; I’m not gonna die!”

“But you could!” Tord screams, suddenly parking the car in an alleyway. He swings around to look at Tom, grabbing the shorter man by the hoodie. “Thomas, you are a human! Humans aren’t immortal! They cannot live through explosions, or survive being shot, or battle with monsters!”

“But I’ve done all of those things!” Tom reminds him, wincing as he headache worsens. Now that he’s focusing on the pain, he notices that his teeth and eyes hurt really bad, too.

“Tom?” Tord backs off a bit, concerned for his boyfriend.

Tom forces himself to look away from Tord, scrunching up his eyes as tears build up. He’s not going to cry. He is _not_ going to _fucking cry_ , dammit! “Just get us home.” He manages through gritted teeth, trying desperately to will away his tears even as a few begin trickling down his cheeks.

Tord hesitates, as if trying to determine whether or not to comfort Tom or follow his orders. He makes a decision, Tom figures out, as the car starts back up and they keep going. Tom gasps around a sob, struggling to keep it together as he stares out the window, feeling hurt and alone. If they stop doing heists, what good will he be? He can never find a decent job, he doesn’t have any college degrees- Hell, he doesn’t even think he looks very good! If they stop pulling heists, than sooner or later, Tord will grow sick of him and toss him to the crows. Tom lets out a sob at that thought, curling in on himself in his seat. If they stop the heists… he’ll be useless.

…

They’ve been at the new base for about two weeks now, and Tom can already tell that Tord is getting antsy, for whatever reason. He has a feeling it has to do with their argument the other day, about potentially giving up heists for good, but Tom doesn’t want to think about that. 

It’s dumb, and to some degree he knows it’s probably not true, but the human can’t stop the invasive thoughts that tell him Tord is tired of him or that he will be if he’s no longer useful for heists.

It’s over breakfast, though, when Tord broaches the topic. “I think we should move,” He says like it’s no problem and Tom just freezes. Both werewolves look at each other in confusion, then between the human and the demon. They probably heard their last big spat, so it wouldn’t surprise Tom if they were worried for him and Tord.

He chooses to stay silent, though, and hear Tord out. When the demon isn’t challenged, he starts speaking again. “I want to move somewhere else, not a base that we own. Maybe a house or apartment complex of sorts.” The Norwegian places a pamphlet on the table and slides it to where all three of his companions can see it. It advertises some flats with vacancies, and when Tord taps on the front of the hand-out twice, the graphic on the front shifts to reveal that it’s a complex specifically meant for monsters and paranormals.

Tom is hesitant though. “Will I be able to move in?” He’s worried that that’s the point, he’ll be abandoned again and-

“Absolutely. As long as a paranormal brings in a human they can stay just fine,” Tom lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “We wouldn’t just leave you, Tom. This is just…” Tord sighs. “I want to keep us all safe. I think it’s in our best interests to stop the heists, while we’re all still alive and well. We’ve had too many scares.”

All eyes are on Tom, but he’s just staring at the brochure on the table, magic in nature as the graphic shifts and shows a vampire and a weird slime-y person waving at the front of the building, while a huge dragon pops up behind it. He examines the pamphlet while he carefully chooses his words. 

“I don’t mind moving and giving up the heists,” He’s struggling to keep his tears in, though. “I don’t wanna be a dead weight, though. I don’t-” A low sniff, and then suddenly all three of his friends are hugging him tight. 

“Tom,” Patryk soothes and Paul whimpers while sniffing and trying to stop his own tears. 

It’s Tord’s words that calm Tom though, eases him of his worries. “You’re more than just a gun to us, Tom. I love you. You’re like family to us, and nothing will ever change that.” The demon is pulled back into the embrace by Tom, who wipes his tears on the front of his red hoodie. 

He has no idea what he’d do without Tord.

...

They move in a week later.

Despite his worries beforehand, Tom has to admit, the place is pretty spectacular. He had been terrified on the way over, feeling almost nauseous (Though he blamed most of that on his headaches) when they started to walk in, but as soon as Tord took his hand and brought him in through the front door, he felt a million times better. The receptionist gives him an odd look while Tom gathers his bearings, look particularly at Tord, who simply hands the man an envelope. The receptionist looks over the letter inside without a word, before nodding his acceptance to Tord, handing the tall demon a key with a number on it.

“Fourteenth floor, apartment twenty-nine, to the left. And please, _try_ not to break anything.” He says that last bit with an air of irritation, looking straight at Paul and Patryk as he does so, who are both standing in the doorway still.

“Oh, no, those two are not with us! Well, they are with us as companions, yes, but they are not… you see my point.” Tord turns into a blushing mess, stepping aside so that Paul and Patryk can get their apartment key.

Immediately, Paul steps forward, putting on a big smile for the receptionist. “No need to worry, sir! We’ll be careful!” He promises, trying to sound reliable.

The receptionist remains unimpressed while handing Paul his room key. “We’ll see, now won’t we? Thirteenth floor, the one at the end of the hallway and to the left.” He instructs, before going back to reading his book.

Paul sags a little at the news. “Thirteenth floor? But…” He gives Tord the saddest puppy-dog eyes he can possibly manage.

“You heard him, knucklehead,” Tord says, very pointedly trying to not look at Paul’s puppy-dog eye. “Your doggy charms shall not be doing you any good. And besides, it is not like we will be far. We’re right upstairs.”

“I’ll bug you guys,” Tom promises, smiling at Paul to try and comfort him. He knows how much the werewolf likes to be around him and Tord. “Don’t worry about us, okay? Heck, I can sniff Tord’s ass for you if ya want!”

That earns a laugh from Patryk and a muffled snort from the receptionist. “Come on, we should start getting ourselves settled in.” Tord explains, beginning to pull Tom outside and to the van.

Tom nods, following Tord outside. They each grab their suitcases, neither of them having a lot between them, so at least they’ll be done in one go. Together, they go back inside and into the elevator, riding the rickety contraption all the way to the fourteenth floor. Tom grins, having an ingenious idea as he kisses Tord on the cheek, shouting a loud ‘You’re it’ before shooting past Tord, leaving his suitcase behind. Tord groans in exasperation, but he’s smiling when Tom glances back at him, carrying Tom’s suitcase as he goes after the short human, going slower on purpose as to give Tom the upper hand for a short moment.

However, it’s short lived, because as soon as Tord sets the suitcases down in front of their apartment door, he chases after Tom, cackling as he tries to catch the sly man. Tom manages to get away for a little while, before Tord manages to tackle him to the floor outside of their new neighbor’s door. Tom laughs, and laughs even harder when Tord yanks up his shirt and blows a raspberry over his belly. The human squirms and protests, but Tord’s got a good hold on him, the incubi beginning to tickle Tom’s sides to produce even more giggles and squeals.

Suddenly, the door opens, and an all too familiar vampire stands in the doorway, smirking down at the couple. “Well… if it isn’t Tom and Tord! So you’re my new neighbors? About time you moved in around here!”

Instead of pushing Tom away in embarrassment, Tord just sits up and pulls Tom into his lap, nuzzling his boyfriend’s hair affectionately. “What can I say? Being a bankrobber got a little old…”

“Matt!?” Tom grins up at Matt in astonishment, looking more than a little excited to see him. “You live here? Holy crap, it’s been ages!” He jumps up and, amazingly enough, hugs the vampire. What can he say? Getting affectionate with Tord has made him high off happiness.

Matt seems surprised at the hug, but soon he’s hugging Tom right back, just as happy to see him as Tom is to see him. “Glad to see that you’re doing better, chum. Pat had told me you’d found Tord, but I haven’t heard from your lot since then. It’s good to see you doing better!”

Tom blushes at that, backing off as he remember how he’d acted when Tord was kidnapped. “Hey, man, I’m… really sorry. I was kind of a dick to you when we were trying to find Tord… I’m real sorry, man.”

Matt just smiles, ruffling Tom’s hair affectionately. “Apology accepted, chum, though I didn’t need it! I know how much you love him, and you were just worried. How about you lads join me for dinner, hm? We could watch some movies and pal around.”

Tom smiles at that, finally feeling 100% safe for the first time in ages. “I’d love to.” He murmurs, just glad to have a real, permanent home now.

...

Tom enjoys his walks with Hamilton, when he can get them in. It used to be a lot harder when they were heisting and shit, but now he has so much free time that he’s looking for anything to occupy his time. He’s finally getting close to home, and Hammy must recognize it too, because he starts to waddle a little faster. The pair come around the corner to see a moving van parked in the complex’s parking lot, and as soon as he sees the plush couch sat inside it, Hamilton surges forward hard enough to wrench the leash out of Tom’s loose grip.

“Wait, Ham-” He shouts, chasing after the pup that is bounding faster than he’s ever seen the fat Corgi go before. Tom’s never really been a big sprinter, though, so he doesn’t catch up to the dog before he’s plopped himself on top of the couch right in the moving van. A masculine looking person of similar height to Tom pokes their head around from behind the truck and smiles happily when they see Hamilton, giving him a good scratch behind his big ears.

“At least they’re a dog person...” The Brit mutters to himself, dropping into a quick jog as he gets a bit closer and when he realizes his pooch isn’t in any danger. As soon as he get’s in the parking lot, heaving and puffing, the newcomer turns around and smiles wide at Tom. 

“Is this your dog?” They pat Hamilton affectionately, before appearing sheepish. “He just hopped right into the van and on the couch, I couldn’t just shoo him out, especially when he’s so cute,” The fellow seems to remember their manners, though, after a moment, and extends their hand out to Tom. “Sorry, how could I be so rude? The name’s Jon!” He flashes another award winning smile.

Tom takes the offered hand and gives it a firm shake, introducing himself and hoping to god he doesn’t smell offensive. “Tom, and yeah, Hamilton’s my dog. He’s a little trouble maker, but fuck if he isn’t loveable-” He realizes he’s cursed and that’s probably not the best way to make friends. “Ack, sorry for swearing.”

But Jon shakes his head quickly, smiling. “It’s all good, don’t worry about it! My roommate swears so much, I hardly even notice when anybody does anymore.” 

“Where are your roommates?” Tom realizes after nobody has joined the pair of them outside. “Is anybody helping you move in?” 

Jon must have the sheepish look mastered, or it’s his default, because he’s sporting it again. “Well, my roomies aren’t exactly daylight people…” But Tom just nods, understanding now that Jon’s worried since he’s just a human.

“My boyfriend is a demon, and my best friends are two werewolves and a vampire,” Jon goes wide eyed so he laughs. “I’m no stranger to this stuff, don’t worry yourself.”

Jon sighs in relief. “I was so worried, you have no idea. I was hoping you were a paranormal, though, and with your cool eyes I guess you kind of have to be. What kind of monster are you, anyway?” His smiling stops as soon as he sees Tom’s strained look. “Oh, did I say something wrong? Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” Tom assures, used to questions about his eyes by now. “I’m not a paranormal, just got into a bad accident and my eyes are stuck like this. What are you, though?” 

“Oh, I’m a human too! I’m glad I won’t be the only one!” He nudges Tom happily with his shoulder and smiles, and Tom can’t help but smile back. It’s nice to have someone so positive around, honestly. 

After a moment of conversing Tom moves toward the couch and gestures to it. “You want some help, then, if you’re down a few arms? I’m actually a lot stronger than I look.” Jon attempts to be polite and say he can handle it, but Tom’s already grabbing one end and hauling it out of the truck on his own. 

“Fine, you can help, but don’t do it on your own!” Jon hops in and helps Tom move the couch out, Hamilton sitting on top of it and wiggling his little rump in excitement. At first they’re carrying the furniture in silence, but Tom hates the quiet, so he attempts to converse a little.

“So what are your roommates, then, If they’re not morning people?”

“Oh, well, Mark is a zombie- not the brain-devouring kind- and my other roomie, well, you’d think he’s a morning person because of what he is, but,” He laughs at a private joke. “You ever met a dryad before?”

Tom shakes his head. “Good, because Eduardo’s not your typical dryad. For starters, he’s also been inflicted with the radiation he studies so heavily, so he’s, like, a walking night light. Not to mention that he hates all things natural, which is, like, the opposite of most dryads.” 

“Sounds like a handful.” Tom comments from the other end of the couch. 

Jon just nods. “He sure is! Can’t go anywhere with him.” And Tom laughs, because that reminds him of Tord. He thinks he’ll be able to get along well with Jon.

...

Some shouting from outside his door disturbs Tom from his nap in the living room with a start, and Hamilton hops off his chest in surprise. Before the dog can clamber back up on the couch, though, Tom is making his way to the door to investigate who is arguing right outside. 

The human doesn’t even attempt to be shameful as he presses his ear right against the door, eavesdropping and hearing both Matt and Tord hissing at each other in low whisper-shouts that occasionally escalate into shouts. 

“Tord, this is getting out of hand,” Matt stresses, and Tom can imagine the fellow Brit pointing and gesturing wildly with his hands like he usually does when excited. “You can fucking smell it on him; he’s changing.”

The demon snorts or something, scoffing at his friend, but Matt’s growing angrier. “You’re doing this to him, Tord.” He’s using words to hurt the Norwegian, but Tom creases his brow, trying to figure out who they’re talking about. Not him, surely. 

“Look, Matt,” Tord mutters condescendingly. “I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t give a shit. I’m doing what’s best for him; I’m giving him a way to protect himsel-”

“Tord, I’m telling you right now that you have no fucking clue what you’re doing. You may be older than me, by a few centuries, but I’m telling you right now, Tord, that you don’t know shit about humans,” Matt lets out a shaky breath. “You haven’t ever _been_ human.”

The slap of someone’s palm against a wall shocks Tom and he can just barely hear that Tord is whispering furiously at the slightly taller monster, but he can’t make out except for his name. He squints, pressing his ear harder on the door and covering his other to see if that will help, but he can’t pick up anything else.

Hamilton pads over and starts pawing at Tom’s leg, whimpering and whining to be let out. Tom tries to ignore the dog, shooing him away with his foot, but he can’t hear any of the words that Matt and Tord are exchanging over the dog’s pleas for attention. All the sounds and stimuli suddenly drive the human into a headache, so he clutches his head and whines himself, trying again to shoo Hamilton away for the third time, but his foot accidentally connects with the dog’s snout and he freezes when his pup yelps. 

Immediately he rushes over to pet the small dog, apologizing quietly to him while he nuzzles his warm hands. Tord opens the door with a tired but concerned look, “Tom? Is Ham alright?” Tom nods and rubs at his own head, ache returning as soon as Tord speaks. 

“Just needs to get out and piss,” he promises, but Tord shoots Tom a more concerned look before the human can let the dog out.

“You got another headache, babe?” He asks quietly and Tom nods, but shrugs off Tord’s concerns, saying he’ll live he just needs some air. Matt pokes his head around the corner too, but neither of the monsters say anything while Tom leashes Hamilton and strides out the door, pulling his hoodie over his head. 

Tom doesn’t meet either of their gazes while he walks out, but as he turns the corner at the end of the hall to go downstairs, he thinks he sees Matt with his hand on Tord’s shoulder, and Tord slowly nodding, as if accepting whatever him and Matt were arguing about.

...

Tom yawns, stepping out of the apartment with his backpack on. He wants to stop by Jon’s place, maybe hang with him for a bit, but he stops short when he looks down the wall and sees Tord with some random dude who’s… glowing. Odd.

“Oh, Thomas!” Tord grins over his shoulder when he spots Tom, waving the brunet over. “This is our neighbor from downstairs! His name is Eduardo. He was the one to help me create your medication!”

Tom smiles at that, holding out a hand to Eduardo. “Hey, Eduardo. Pleasure’s all-” He stops dead in his tracks, choking a little on his own air as his hair stands on end, a rotting, awful sensation of nausea coiling in his stomach.

Eduardo chuckles, shaking his head at Tom. “Sorry, bud,” He mutters, amused by Tom’s reaction. “But if I shake your hand, I might just melt your fingers off… and your hair’ll fall out.”

Tom nods, pulling his hand back, scrunching up his face in pain. His stomach hurts so bad… “Hey, uh,” Eduardo sounds just a bit concerned, trying to break up the tension in the air. “How your meds goin’ for ya?”

Tom just shrugs, trying to step away from Eduardo without looking rude. “They’re… fine. Been feelin’ really energized lately.”

Eduardo laughs outright at the news, smirking down at Tom. “Yeah, they’ll do that… I’ll try ‘n make some that’ll help the headaches, okay? Jon’s been gettin’ worried ‘bout ya!”

Tom actually smiles at that, trying and failing to will away the pain. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate that.” Tom says, nodding to the monster.

Eduardo just shrugs. After another pause, Tom dashes past Eduardo and Tord, almost up-chucking when he’s close to Eduardo. Once he’s in the elevator, Tom sighs with relief, though his stomach is still hurting. He gives it a good rub, hoping to will away the pain, but it does nothing for him. His tummy ache stays with him for the rest of the day.

...

“Hey, Jon, do Eduardo’s Rads get to you at all?” Tom asks his friend while they’re sitting on his couch, watching TV and both occasionally patting Hamilton, who’s sitting between them.

Jon looks puzzled, though. “What do you mean?” Tom shrugs.

“I’ve only ever gotten upset stomachs and headaches when I was around him, unfortunately.” He sighs sadly when Jon shakes his head. 

“Some humans are more susceptible to radiation, Tom, it might just be that you’re one of those people.” Tom shrugs and Jon rubs his back. “Eduardo has Rad suppressants that he can take, anyway! I’ll ask him to start taking them if he doesn’t mind.”

Tom nods weakly, still unsure and worried. He can’t shake the idea that something might be wrong with him.

...

Tom asks Tord about the same kind of thing later, but the demon has the same answers. “Some humans are just more susceptible to radiation, Thomas, nothing to worry about.”

But it’s not enough for the Brit, so he asks Tord the question he’s been scared to for the last few days. “Do you think it has something to do with my medication?” Tord freezes, caught off guard.

“No… Why would you think that?” Tom shrugs, just desperate for an explanation. Tord pats the small man on the head in an attempt to reassure him. “You’re probably just weaker to rads than most, Thomas, it’s totally fine. Eduardo has suppressants he should be taking, anyway…”

But Tom doesn’t listen. He can’t shake this feeling… And it makes his stomach twist.

…

“Is there something wrong with me, Tord?” Great way to start a conversation, Tom berates himself, looking down at his socks with worry. The Norwegian sets the dish he’s scrubbing down before turning and regarding his boyfriend with worried eyes. 

“Tom, why would you think that? Are you feeling alright?” Tom shrugs and cracks his sore knuckles. Everything is sore. 

“I just feel like something is wrong, like,” He shudders, not keen on baring his emotions, but he continues anyway. “I feel like something is about to explode. I don’t know how to explain it but-” The small human is cut off when he’s pulled into a warm, if not soapy embrace with the demon.

“You’re fine, everything is perfect,” He murmurs softly into Tom’s hair. “I love you so much, and we’re safe here.” The Brit wishes those words comforted him like usual, but right now they make his gut twist uncomfortably.

“Tord,” He swallows some saliva in his mouth as he stresses over the question he’s about to ask his lover. “Tord, would you tell me if you were lying to me? Would you keep secrets from me?” 

Too quickly, Tord shakes his head “I could never keep secrets from you, _min kjære_.” Tom slowly wraps his arms around the other, nodding and burying his face into his chest. 

_Everything was going to be fine._

…

“Thanks for going to the store with me, man,” Tom says, giving Jon a sheepish look as the two humans walk down the sidewalk together, both carrying armfuls of groceries. “Tord can’t stand going out in public, and I hate going alone, so… thanks.”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Jon promises, grinning so happily at Tom that he can’t help but smile back. The guy’s happiness is contagious! “I needed to go out and shop anyways, and it’s always more fun with a friend!”

“You could say that again.” Tom agrees, humming along to the music coming from his earbud- he and Jon are sharing earbuds right now, since Tom had insisted on Jon getting into some of his favorite bands.

They continue like that for awhile, before Jon gives Tom the slightest of worried looks. “By the by, how’s your head doing? You still having those headaches?”

At that, Tom puffs out his chest and grins, basking in his own health. “Haven’t had any in almost a week!” He declares quite proudly, stopping at a crosswalk just in front of the apartment complex. “I think those meds are finally working!”

“Well, it’s about time. I’m so glad you’re getting better, Tommy!” Jon practically squeals, managing to side-hug his friend despite carrying groceries.

Tom grins, basking in the affection and love. It’s nice, he thinks, to have Jon for a friend. And yeah, he’ll let the ‘Tommy’ shit slide, but only because it’s Jon calling him that. Tom sighs with contentment, beginning to cross the street as he drowns out the outside world with his music. Yep, life is pretty swea-

“ _TOM!_ ”

The last thing he hears and feels are tires screeching and a fiery pain blooming from his side and head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we say anything at all, the OC Balis is owned by tumblr user Kathasablog, and the OC Kelvin is owned by tumblr user durpacerangerrogjro !!! Show them your love and send them nice messages about their OCs, without them we might not have such fun characters that we get to include! : D
> 
> AL SO IM A FUCKING. Asshole. I forgot to credit Oliver, tumblr user Itscola, for the amazing Grenade Dildo joke. It's my favorite part of this entire chapter, and it's the part neither Casey or I wrote.
> 
> But yes, it's been so long, but we're finally back, hopefully!! Sorry about the unexpected hiatus, real life has been impacting our writing a lot more than intended, but things are under control and we're getting back into this au, determined to see it out to the end! Or, the end of the main story. We'll probably revisit here and there with oneshots after Fade, More than you Bargained For, and the Matt backstory are out.
> 
> Of course, visit our tumblrs and the blog's tumblr for info about the au, fanart, etc. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!!


	3. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said that love conquers all has clearly never been with a demon before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for possibly triggering content, including character death, brief depictions of torture, and body horror (monster transformation).

Humans are fragile. It’s been ingrained in Tord since he was just a small Impling, being reared like a child by his superiors. Don’t bother relying on humans, ‘cause they die on you whenever you seem to need ‘em. It was a joke; the older Demons would laugh and so would he. He didn’t know any better.

But he wasn’t laughing when Tom was lying in the aftermath of the explosion on that big heist months ago. Wasn’t laughing when he held onto his limp, injured body, and certainly wasn’t laughing when he watched the blood pool into his terrified eyes.

He didn’t ever fully realize just how fragile humans were until those moments, when he thought for sure his most precious person was done for: when he realized that he could lose Tom to just a bomb, or a bullet.

Tord wasn’t able to sleep for days. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the blood, hear Tom crying out over the radio- He was pathetic and he knew it. Matt and Patryk threw him pitying gazes while he sat outside Tom’s hospital room, staring in and keeping watch whenever the small, broken human was sleeping. It seemed like if he ever looked away Tom could be dead and it was driving him to exhaustion.

But a conversation with Matthew gave him the spark of hope he needed. It was a little over an hour after Tom had woken up, rambling about the police and tearing out his IVs. Matt had to rush in to sedate the poor man and hook him back up before any real damage to the human was done, and Tord watched on, helpless in the situation.

“Humans,” Tord said later on. “Are far too fragile.” Matt nodded, patting the demon on the back and sighing lowly.

“You’re not wrong. Just wish there was a way to help them,” Tord grunted, so the vampire kept talking to fill the silence. “Maybe ceasing to risk your lives while robbing banks is a good way to stop being in so much danger…?” He tried, but Tord simply grunted again.

“I just don’t know how to actually help him,” Tord muttered, bringing his legs up to his chest. “I’m so exhausted mentally I just… Wanna figure out something for the long term. Even if we stop the heists we’ll still find a way to get into trouble: that’s practically Tom’s middle name.” He sighed tiredly, putting his forehead to his knees in defeat.

Tord felt Matt pat his back once more. “Well, things happen, things change.” Matt muttered, trying to find something to say that would pick Tord’s spirits up.

The demon just raised his hands up in frustration. “Unless there’s some way to change Tom from a human to a-” He stopped himself mid-sentence, mouth agape as he realized the easiest answer to his problem. To Tom’s problem. He stared, big, wide eyes turning directly to the Vampire who sat beside him.

“No,” Matt stated flatly, narrowing his eyes before Tord could even get a word out. “I know what you’re thinking and no. I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone.” A protest started from the demon but he knew he couldn’t argue this, and he definitely couldn’t turn Tom into a vampire on his own. He supposed he could get Paul or Patryk to turn Tom into a werewolf, but the chances of that working were low, and Weres were still pretty fragile in comparison to vampires and demons.

But Tord couldn’t stop his mind from racing, continuously going back to that train of thought if he let it wander for more than a moment. He knew that changing a human into a monster should be- was possible. He had the resources, the time… He just needed a starting point. It’s a couple days later when Tord’s flipping through a magazine and sees an advertisement for a B-List horror movie. He was about to turn to the next page but his eye lingered on the words. ‘Nuclear’. ‘Mutation’. Tord grinned wildly.

He had found his inspiration.

His hands scrambled through his pockets in search of his phone, and as soon as he had the device he was dialing a number he’d thought he’d forgotten. A gruff voice answered on the other end with a tired, “Hello?” Tord smirked, already doing quick calculations in his head.

It didn’t take long for him to explain his entire plan to Eduardo, an esteemed researcher who specialized in nuclear physics and was, of course, someone who owed Tord a favor. Once he was done elaborating, gasping for breath, the man on the other end laughed. “You’re asking me to do something that’s impossible!!” But despite the incredulousness that was in his voice at the time, Tord could make out the intrigue, and he knew he had his partner for his next biggest project.

For the next few months Tord and Eduardo worked together on the plans, locking themselves away in his lab or Ed’s apartment for days on end while working on all sorts of calculations and serums. Even after Thomas had been discharged, Tord brought his work home and poured over notes, spending many sleepless nights working on every possible variable.

It took weeks for their research to take off, but the two were diligent and eventually ended up with a concoction that should, in theory, work. They encapsulated the ‘medicine’ in small pills that were meant to be ingested along with each meal. Tord held the bottle in his hands and considered the dosage they had planned.

“What’re you so worried for?” Eduardo pestered while filling each pill. “Tom will be fine; we’ve worked the science out loads of times.”

But Tord shook his head. “Worked it out or not, we’ve been unable to test it. We can’t use it on any humans,” Tord muttered, rubbing his forehead in thought. “Or animals, for that matter.”

“Don’t want a super-dog?” Eduardo chuckled and the demon just glared, dumbfounded.

In exasperation he asked, “What kind of dryad are you??” But Ed laughed more and Tord sighed. “Anyways, we have to be completely sure that this will work. There’s no room for error. The minute radiation exposure over time, as well as the other components, should be enough to mutate him… As long as I’m careful.”

Tord began to stress but of course his assistant piped up, slapping him on the back encouragingly. “Jeez, don’t worry so much, you’re gonna make the smoke alarm go off.” Eduardo laughed at the fierce look he received.

…

When Tord handed Tom the bottle of pills, the human was confused. “What’s this?” He inspected the jar in his hands, reading the label for the information. Tord shifted anxiously.

The demon scratched at the back of his head. “Some meds you gotta start taking; remember how you were complaining about your eyes hurting a few weeks ago? These should help.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “You made a medicine for me? All by yourself??” He was wide-eyed and amazed, and Tord, trying to not let the admiration get to his head, gave Tom a small shrug.

“An acquaintance of mine helped me develop it, and it should be just the thing to help your eyes,” Tord pointed out. “It’ll be best for you to start taking it as soon as possible, but big differences might not be noticeable for a few weeks or maybe even months.”

“Something is better than nothing at this point,” Tom sighed in relief, looking up at Tord with an earnest smile. “Thanks, Tord, this means a lot!”

It took some effort but Tord smiled back, staring pointedly at Tom’s nose instead of his happy eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” He murmured and ruffled the shorter man’s hair, walking away with his shoulders a little slumped. He knew it was ultimately for Tom’s own good, but fuck, Tord thought. I’ve got to be the worst boyfriend.

…

It didn’t take long for Tord to notice Tom was changing. It started with minor behavioral changes, then a slight change in sleep schedule and food habits: nothing to Tom’s physical appearance but that was the point. It was supposed to be a secret.

Tord let himself get caught up in research again, in order to stop thinking about what he was doing to the human. He hardly slept, never giving his mind that time to fill him with worry and doubt. Paul had suggested before that something paranormal was running a rival gang, and they sabotaged them, but Tord never really put any faith in the thought. Nevertheless, it was something to put his mind to. He didn’t actually expect he’d find something, and even worse, he never expected it would be someone so bad.

It was fucking Balis.

Tord shivered as a wave of dread and nausea hit him at the sight. Memories of the brutish demon filled his head and in a fit of fear and rage, he flung all of his books to the ground and shouted. He couldn’t deal with that piece of shit again and he couldn’t put anyone he cared about through that literal fucking Hell.

“Tord?” Almost on cue Tom piped up, waking from a dream. Tord felt a pang of guilt at waking his boyfriend but pushed it aside. “‘S wrong, babe?”

The Demon attempted to calm himself down. “Fine,” He assured the human. “‘M fine. Sorry for waking you.” Tom did his best to assure him and comfort him, but Tord wasn’t able to get the images of his past with Balis out of his head for the rest of the night.

…

After that, Tord got careless. He tried to get to Balis before he could get to them, but it was the other way around, and he was snatched up from the family he created for himself. Balis kept him in a big penthouse style meeting room with a bunch of other demons, but all of them were serving him and making his life on Earth comfortable.

While the rest of the demons ran free, so to speak, Tord was bound down by a copper ring nailed to the floor. There was no way he could get out of it without probably killing himself, so he stayed put and dealt with whatever Balis would throw at him.

And Tord meant that quite literally. Despite being trapped to the spot he would constantly chastise the demon that kept him prisoner at every chance he could, even going so far as to spit on his boots whenever he walked by. Every transgression was met with a punishment. Balis’s favorite was throwing salt down on Tord, to cause a searing hot pain on his flesh wherever the salt landed. Occasionally he would also be subjected to religious symbols, holy water, the works.

Despite all the torture, though, Tord remained resolute in his quips and jokes, and he could tell Balis was at his wit’s end. “Why don’t you just shut up?” He’d demanded while Tord was currently writhing in pain but still managing to get jokes in about being salted like a french fry.

“Infuriating, isn’t it?” He panted out in between body spasms. He’d learned how to be an annoying asshole from the best, after all.

Tord wasn’t sure how long he was held there, but he’d have to guess a few days. He managed to see the sun set a few different times, but he slept most of his hours away, trying to conserve what energy he could, so it was hard to tell regardless. The Norwegian tried several times to slyly get out of Balis what he actually wanted with him, but every time he caught on and every time it ended up in the demon walking away or kicking him in the face.

So all he was able to do was bide his time, and try and find an escape route whenever he was left alone, which wasn’t often. He secretly hoped that Tom and the Werewolves were looking for a way to save him, but it wouldn’t be easy and he didn’t want to count on it. Not that he doubted them. He’d never doubt his boys.

When he catches word of them infiltrating the facility, it’s like Christmas morning.

He first hears about it from a little Imp that comes bouncing in the room, screaming its little head off. It used some kind of demonic language and if Tord’s honest he tried to block as much of that out as he could when he ditched, so he could only make out a few words: “Guns” and “Big Death”. It had to be his boys.

Tord did his best not to look giddy and eager from his little spot on the floor, especially when more demons came pouring into the room all followed by Balis, who, despite a straight face, it was easy to tell he was pissed. The demons gathered around the main table in the room, all conversing with one another in hushed tones while they waited for Balis to give out some orders.

“Where are they?” Balis spoke evenly and slowly, sounding out every syllable so everyone could hear. It was clear to see he was pissed, and it took everything in Tord not to smile, because he’s pretty sure Balis would’ve actually killed him. Nobody in the room attempted to answer Balis’s question, and there was a beat of silence before the leader slammed his hand down. An uproar of voices started from all around the table, everyone trying to talk over each other in an effort to figure out where the infiltrators had gone.

In the middle of the conversation one of the demons cried, “The elevator!!” Everyone turned to Balis who angrily barked out some orders, trying to regain his composure. It didn’t take long for everyone to be able to hear the elevator coming up, everyone going into high alert, talking only in hushed tones while they shuffled crates and set up in positions.

Tord ended up hidden from view by most of the crates, but thankfully he was able to see most of the room through a small crack. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the elevator to come to the top floor, but when it did it gave off a small *ding* and everyone silenced, watching the door with wide eyes.

The elevator opened slowly, and it took a lot for Tord to not shout with relief when he saw his boys. “Hey!” Tom shouted. “Release Tord and nobody has to get hurt.”

“Tord?” Balis said, mocking surprise. Tord rolled his eyes as he continued. “And what would a simple human want to do with a runaway whelpling like that? Does he owe you something, or..” He trailed off, as if realizing something. “Oh, I see, you’re his pups and his snack, right? You lot can call me Balis, I-”

The gunfire kicked off immediately after Balis said his name and Tord gave a small nod in appreciation. He used the commotion of gunfire, screams, and shouting to cover him looking for a means of escape, seeing if he could pry up the copper ring from the floor with his claws. He worked the entire time on it but he was getting nowhere fast, and the sounds of the fight were starting to die down.

Tord heard someone moving closer to him, so he curled up and feigned sleep, trying to get them to leave him alone so he could get back to work on escaping. The shuffling sound made its way towards the Demon, causing him to tense in case a lesser Whelp decided now is a good time to douse him with salt again. A hand was gently pressed to his face. His eyes snapped open while he hissed, baring his teeth and fangs. As soon as he recognized Tom though, he allowed a wave of relief to wash over him.

“Tom!” He shouted excitedly. “How did you find me??” Tom smiled weakly, shrugging.

“Looked through all your books, found a way to port to you. But, Tord, how can we defeat Balis? He heals from aggression, how can we stop him and save you?”

Tord thought frantically for a moment before gesturing to the copper ring on the floor. “Break the circle, I can’t move until it’s gone. I can stop Balis if I get out.” Or at least, he thought he could. Despite Balis being a bit bigger than him they were evenly matched in a fight as long as he could get up close. He just had to keep a level head.

Tom was sawing away at the copper with his knife and getting through it a good way, but Tord saw the hazy look in his eyes and worried. “Tom, are you alright? You look like you’re wavering, babe.” But right as he said it, Balis was behind the human helping him escape, grabbing him by the hood of his shirt.

“I’ll give you this, Tord: you’ve certainly landed yourself a loyal crew, as well as a stupid one. Why would beings as determined as these try and save a pathetic little whelp like you?” He surely would’ve gone on if Tom hadn’t whirled around and punched the Demon right in his ugly fucking face. Balis roared in pain, snapping Tom’s arm in half and smashing his horns into the human’s head. Tord watched on in horror as Balis threw him to the ground, turning away from Tom as he writhed on the ground.

“Tom!” Tord cried out, trying to soothe his boyfriend in some manner, but as Tom laid there, screeching in pain, Tord noticed he was starting to… change. His eyes moved and settled in the middle of his face, becoming one big black void. The bones underneath his body cracked and shifted and grew, stretching out his skin in a grotesque manner. Spines came up from his back and elbows, and two horns pushed their way out from his forehead. Tom’s body cracking and shifting caused Balis to turn back at him, but right as he did he got a huge purple claw right in his face, pushing him down into the tile.

Balis was lifted up and slammed back down repeatedly by the monstrosity that was now Tom, roaring and screaming the entire time that he beat Balis down. Either the demon was too shocked at the change or he was unable to do anything as Tom threw him into the wall and chased after him, tearing into him with sharp claws.

With renewed vigor Tord snagged the knife that Tom left in the circle and worked away at the copper, finally getting it fractured. Once broken, Tord stood, no longer bound by the copper, and he snuck around to look for his wolves. Sounded like Tom had Balis covered.

They were right around the crates, tired and whimpering, but alive and starting to regain consciousness. He moved to help them both, slowly regaining his own energy by holding them and pulling them to their feet.

“Where’s Tom?” Paul spat out, but when Patryk gestured to the big purple monster that continued to pound Balis into the wall, Paul nodded in understanding.

The three rushed over towards the monster that was mauling the demon on the ground, not quite sure of what to do.

But Paul pointed at the monster. “He’s slowing down!” And he was. Tom’s claws were coming slower and slower as he tired himself out.

“We need to act fast,” Tord hissed, edging himself closer to Tom so he could get at Balis as soon as the beast that was his boyfriend passed out from exhaustion. It didn’t take too long before Tom slumped to the side with a loud *thud*, and Tord took to action quickly.

He dragged the beaten Balis over to where all the torture equipment was and got to work, pulling out chalk to draw a big circle around the demon, then dousing him with salt and holy water. Balis started to come to as the holy water burned him, but Tord was too far along in the ritual for him to do anything other than scream as he was being banished back into Hell. A few words that Tord had forgotten the meaning of later, and Balis was fading out of existence in flashes of light.

There was a beat, before everyone let out a big sigh of relief, glad that the worst of it was finally over.

…

Tom didn’t remember a thing, and Tord was grateful. He needed more time to figure out how to explain the monster thing to him, but until then he’d bide his time, just grateful to be happy again with Tom.

Time passed. Tom’s transformation went along smoothly, and aside from a few close calls of his secret being exposed, nothing went wrong. Sure, there were ups and downs, but that was how Tom and Tord had always been. They’d get through it and everything was good.

Until Matt confronted him again.

“Have you told him yet??” He hissed next door from his apartment one night when Tord was about to leave for a late night walk. He’d been taking more of those, lately. At Matt’s question the demon slowly shook his head, avoiding the vampire’s disapproving gaze. “Tord.”

“I know,”

“This is getting out of hand,” Tord tried to make some sort of protest but Matt pressed on, upset. “You can fucking smell it on him; he’s changing.”

The Norwegian scoffed, opening his mouth to protest. He really didn’t want to hear this now that they were done with all the tests, all the time, all the effort. What happened happened, and they couldn’t change it. Matt grew angrier though, shutting his own door and taking a step towards the demon. “You’re doing this to him, Tord.”

He’s just trying to cut deep, Tord. The demon reminded himself in his head before he could say something he’d regret. “Look, Matt. I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t give a shit,” He said briskly. “I’m doing what’s best for him; I’m giving him a way to protect himsel-”

But Matt stepped forward again. “Tord, I’m telling you right now that you have no fucking clue what you’re doing. You may be older than me, by a few centuries, but I’m telling you right now, Tord, that you don’t know shit about humans…You haven’t ever been human.”

That set Tord off. Out of frustration he slammed his palm against the wall and leaned close to Matt, whispering out his rage as if he were letting out steam. “Well as a fucking demon, I know the worst of what’s out there. I lived in Hell for two of your fucking lifetimes and I have seen every possible horror you can imagine. I could’ve killed him so many times,” He took a breath but continued scathingly. “And so could you. Any fucking person in this complex could’ve. But I’m helping him, I got him involved in our world and now I’m saving his fucking life. So tell me I’m wrong one more fucking time, Harvest.”

“You don’t know any of this, Tord!” Matt whisper-shouted and raised his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t know if he would’ve died from that stuff! These are all could-be’s and would-happen’s. I can get hurt if I’m exposed to a fucking cross for too long, do you know how many people wear crosses in the hospital?? A lot, but I’m still fucking here, Tord,” Matt was choking back tears and Tord felt a pang of guilt. “All he needed was you to protect him.”

Tord narrowed his eyes. “What about me getting kidnapped, huh? How the fuck do I protect him when I’m the one who needs saving?? I’m constantly a fucking target, and now he is too. So what do I do then?” Matt shrugged angrily at the question. “What do I do then, Matt?!?” A shrug again. “What do I-”

“Look!” Matt cut him off, mad and tired of the bombardment. “I don’t have all the answers! But you can’t keep going on like this. Tom needs to know the truth; for fuck’s sake, Tord, he doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him!!”

Tord groaned in frustration. “Nothing is wrong with him!! He turned out just like how we thought he would, he can protect himself and I’ve-”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “You’ve turned him into a fucking monster.”

Before the demon could retaliate, the sound of the dog yelping from inside the apartment started up. Immediately Tord opened the door poked his head in. “Tom? Is Ham alright?”

Tom nodded and rubbed his head, muttering something about the dog needing to be let out. Tord couldn’t stop himself from being concerned so he asked: “You got another headache, babe?” The human nodded some more.

“Just need some air.” He mumbled, stepping out with the dog and moving down the stair well. Matt settled his hand on Tord’s shoulder, who begrudgingly nodded.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Tord,” Matt promised, sounding just as sad as the demon felt right then. “I just want you to understand: this only gets worse the longer you wait.” The demon understood, he just didn’t want to admit it.

But he sighed, letting a single hot tear fall. “I know.”

…

A little more time passes. Tord promises to tell. He keeps putting it off but he promises himself, over and over, that he’ll make sure Tom knows before anything can happen.

It’s his phone’s ringtone that wakes Tord up. He grunts out of discomfort, the dog lying on his legs, keeping him pinned. Not minding the insistent buzzing, Tord let’s his eyes drift closed again, not wanting to be up yet. Just as Tord feels unconsciousness creeping up on him once more, his phone starts going off again. With a sigh of frustration, Tord sits up, carefully picking up Hamilton to set him on the floor, setting him down on his way to the phone.

Tord picks it up on the third ring. “Hello, this is Tord Luvhart. May I help you.” If it’s Paul and Pat calling to see if he wants to hang with them, Tord’s going to be pissed.

However, that thought is dashed away when he hears the frantic voice on the other end. “Tord? What the fuck, Tord, are you there? Listen to me; turn on the fucking news!”

“What?” Tord is still in a bit of a daze, having not expected Eduardo’s angry voice on the other end. “Eduardo? Friend, what is the commotion about? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Eduardo hangs up. Shrugging, Tord lies back down, figuring it’s nothing. However, just as his eyes slide closed, his apartment door is broken off it’s hinges and thrown to the floor. Tord startles, shifting in a heartbeat with wings unfurled, ready to take flight if need be. Eduardo stands livid in the doorway, looking for the life of him ready to bite Tord’s head off. Tord, again, startles somewhat, hesitating as he tries to keep his shift in check, not knowing whether to attack, run, or unshift. Eduardo doesn’t have time for this, as is made apparent as the dryad storms into the apartment and turns on the tv, not even looking at the screen as he turns and gives Tord his angriest glare possible.

Tord blinks a few times, eyes focused on the television. His blood runs cold.

“And here we are on Durdan Lane as what appears to be a monster straight out of a horror movie reeks havoc on the local community. The authorities have reported that the monster is simply a robot for an upcoming movie, but the locals aren’t convinced,” A reporter on tv, amazingly enough, keeps her composure as a monster in the background is shot at repeatedly, the police struggling to keep the beast at bay. “Due to the potential danger of the situation, we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Eduardo shuts off the television set, glowering at Tord with eyes so fierce they could kill a god. “Your boyfriend’s outta control,” He growls, pointing to the window. “We gotta get down there!”

Without waiting for anymore instructions, Tord nods and allows Eduardo to climb onto his back before busting out the window, his wings carrying him to the street below.

…

Tord lands with ease on the sidewalk, his lithe demon body curling slightly as he settles on the ground. Eduardo climbs off at once, struggling to hide his initial nausea from the fall. The demon bites back a snicker, mentally noting that he probably shouldn’t take Eduardo flying again anytime soon. The enjoyment dissipates quickly, however, when a roar erupts from nearby. Tord turns, getting a good look at the scene in front of him. Tom’s fully shifted, the large, dragon-like beast gnawing on a nearby car, sinking it’s teeth and claws into the metal. Good; it looks like Tom’s pretty calm at the moment. Save for a few smashed cars and a caved-in road, there doesn’t seem to be any civilian casual-

A crippling sense of dread fills Tord’s insides once he catches sight of a corpse poking out from under a car, the body curled in on itself in self defense. Eduardo, apparently recovered from his nausea, seems to notice it too, looking disturbed. “Aw, fuck, looks like he got somebody,” He mutters, before he pauses, looking more scared than Tord’s ever seen him. “Hold up… is that… Oh God!” He bolts for the body, ignoring Tom entirely.

Tom looks up, blinking as he stares down at Eduardo, curious of the newcomer. Thankfully, the corpse isn’t too close to Tom, so Eduardo doesn’t set Tom into a frenzy when he runs for the body. Gently, Eduardo crouches by the corpse, before ever so carefully rolling it over. Tord pales. It’s Jon. Eduardo hugs the lifeless body to his chest, crying into Jon’s chest with muffled sobs. The scene tugs on Tord’s heartstrings, but not enough to make him try and comfort Eduardo- not when Tom’s still very much a threat. Slowly, Tord stalks towards Tom, gaining the beast’s full attention as he saunters over, wings taut against his back in anticipation, ready to take flight.

There’s a moment of silence, as the two monsters lock eyes. The police and civilians have long since fled, too afraid and outmatched to do much more than hide and pray the monsters go away on their own. Tom lets go of the car, never looking away from Tord as he uses his tail to knock the car away, the car crashing haphazardly into the side of a building. The noise triggers Tord to attack, unable to hold back any longer. While Tom easily outranks Tord in size, weight, and mass, Tord is far more nimble and quick, making it difficult for the one-eyed monster to keep track of him. Tord uses this to his advantage, catching Tom off-guard as he takes off into the air.

Tom tries desperately to get at Tord, roaring and pawing fruitlessly in his direction, yet Tord manages to keep a good distance from the beast’s claws. Suddenly, however, Tom goes onto all fours, clacking his teeth as he tries to do… something. For a split second, Tord thinks he sees smoke coming from Tom’s mouth, but he chalks it up to the smoke coming from himself instead. While Tom’s busy, Tord swoops down and grabs an abandoned motorcycle, flying it up in the air before tossing it at Tom’s head. Tom tries to dodge, but the motorcycle clips one of his horns, causing the monster to grunt at the impact.

The demon tries this a few times, but Tom’s caught onto his little trick, and every time Tord tries to swoop, Tom goes for a swipe. Soon, it’s apparent that Tord can’t get low anymore, as Tom’s gotten enough speed and momentum to almost keep up with him. Tord clacks his jaws together, unsure of what to do. Although he inadvertently created Tom and should know all his powers, he’s still somewhat of an unknown entity. For all Tord knows, Tom could sprout wings and take off after him. It’s terrifying, but Tord has no choice; he has to take him out now or he’s screwed. He can’t afford for this to drag out too long, lest the military get involved.

Making his decision, Tord flies as fast as he can back into his apartment, ignoring the broken glass that cuts into his flesh when he forces himself through the window. He shifts back into his human form, scrambling to the fridge in an attempt to find his emergency tranquilizer gun and it’s ammo. He has no idea how well it’ll work on Tom, but it’s not like he has any better ideas going for him. Meanwhile, he can hear Tom trying desperately to knock the apartment complex over, but unfortunately for him, the building has been enchanted with enough magic to survive a nuke, much less a monster throwing a temper tantrum.

It doesn’t take Tord long to find the darts and his tranq gun, although he feels immense guilt as he loads it. “I’m so sorry, Thomas…” He says under his breath, before positioning himself towards the open window.

Tom’s right outside, trying and failing to stick his clawed hand inside the window. With no other option, Tord fires three clean shots into Tom’s paw. The beast howls, losing it’s grip on the building before collapsing onto the ground outside. Tord rushes to the window ledge, poking his head out to see the aftermath. Tom’s still shifted, but he’s beginning to mellow out, the beast visibly starting to shrink in size. Tord sighs with relief, forming wings on his back before fluttering down to the ground. By the time he lands, Tom’s back in human form, although his clothes are almost all completely shredded, leaving him in nothing but a tattered t-shirt and boxers.

Ever so gently, Tord positions himself to kneel on the ground, Tom’s head in his lap. It takes a few seconds, but Tom soon becomes at least partially conscious. “Wha…” He struggles to speak, voice groggy and tired. “What happened?”

Good. He doesn’t remember a thing. “Easy there, Tom,” Tord keeps his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Just sleep… you’ve had a long day.”

With no energy left in him to argue, Tom falls asleep in Tord’s arms. Tord scoops him up at once, wincing when he sees the damage all around him. The landlord’s gonna be pissed, but fuck it, it’s not like Tom’s the first monster to lose his cool around here. Given a few days and a bit of magical influence, this will all blow over like nothing ever happened. If only the same could be said for Tord and everyone else. Just on time, Eduardo joins Tord in front of the apartment building, holding his own friend in his arms. They share a look, before walking back into the complex together.

…

By the time they make it back upstairs, word has spread of the so-called earthquake outside and of what really happened, resulting in Tord coming home to Paul and Patryk in his living room, looking rather distressed. “Oh, thank God you’re alright,” Paul’s the first to speak, looking like he wants to run and hug Tord, but he holds back. “What happened out there? We heard the earthquakes, and some rumors, but…”

“What? You thought it was nothin’, dumbass? Tord’s boytoy fucking destroyed this whole street!” Eduardo snaps, setting Jon’s body in a chair so he can yell at Paul in peace. “If it weren’t for Tord’s crazy experimenting-”

“-Don’t go putting this all on me,” Tord orders, lying Tom on the couch, though his glare is focused on Eduardo. “You helped me with the serum! You helped me with the radiation research! You’re as much to blame here as me!”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap. I was just in it for the research! It wasn’t my plan to turn your boyfriend into a goddamned abomination.” He stops, clenching his fists in pent up rage. “Because of you and that freak, Jon’s dead! You hear me? D-E-A-D: Dead!”

Tord can just feel the smoke pouring out of his ears at the word ‘abomination’. “Do not call him that, you piece of shit,” He hisses lowly, struggling to hold back all of his anger. Right now he just wants to lay down with Tom and rest for a few years, he’s had enough stress to last him a century.

“I’ll call him whatever I want! He killed Jon!” Eduardo shouts, stepping closer to Tord. He puffs his wide chest out and shoves it against Tord’s lithe figure and the demon falters, not willing to deal with any of this right now.

“Eduardo-” But the dryad’s past listening at this point, and he angrily swings at Tord. Before any contact is made though, both Patryk and Paul have him pinned down, snarling in his shocked face.

“Stop!” Tord puts every ounce of his ‘I’m the Boss’ voice into the command, causing Paul and Pat to go stark still, the werewolves hesitating. “That’s enough, boys. Off of him,” As much as he wants to tear into Eduardo, he understands what he’s going through. This isn’t easy for anyone. Slowly, the wolves back down, leaving Eduardo to glower as he picks himself up, dusting himself off. “We need some space for awhile… you should take Jon and go.” The demon looks away, ashamed.

Eduardo bites back a curse, before collecting Jon and making for the door. “This isn’t over, Luvhart,” He threatens, voice hushed. “You and I will settle this.” With that, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

…

Tom stays unconscious for almost twelve hours, not that Tord’s surprised. First time monster transformations are extremely wearing on the user, and although it’s been several millennia since Tord first shifted forms, he still bears the scars. He wonders, while Tom’s recovering, how long this adjustment period will last. Will Tom learn to control it over time? As frustrating as it is, Tord somehow doubts Tom will be able to without some sort of at least minor medical intervention. Maybe Tord should make a hamper to Tom’s abilities? Perhaps, but that could cause another outburst as soon as the hamper is removed, and Tord can’t risk another incident like this. He sighs, head in his hands as he remembers Jon… God, what’s he going to tell Tom?

Tord jolts when the poor Brit finally comes to, though he can tell Tom won’t be able to stay conscious for long.

“Tord?” Tom’s at least alert enough to talk, so Tord figures that’s a good sign. “Oh God, my head… what the Hell happened?” He sits up, then winces. Tord makes a mental note to get Tom a heating pad for his back soon.

“There was a… car accident. You got hit while crossing the street,” Tord lies. He knows full well that stacking lie on top of lie will only end in pain, but until Tom can handle his transformations, Tord can’t risk putting Tom through that level of guilt. “I was so scared when I heard… I thought for sure that I’d lose you.”

Tom chuckles, giving Tord a half hearted punch to the arm. “If I can survive an explosion and fighting a demon, I’m pretty sure I can survive a freaking car accident,” He pauses, trying to pull his thoughts together. “Was I, uh, with someone? Was it you?”

Goddammit, Tord’s been hoping to avoid this, no matter how fruitless it is. “N-No, Tom. It wasn’t me,” He struggles with the words, before swallowing and steeling himself. “It was… Jon. I’m so sorry, Thomas. The paramedics did all they could, but it was too late.”

Tom swallows, his lip quivering as he tries to keep it together. Not bothering to try talking it out, Tord lies down with Tom on the bed, cuddling the Brit close to try and comfort him. As soon as Tord’s arms are around him, Tom sobs, rolling over to cry into Tord’s chest. The incubi pets Tom’s back in response, beating away his own guilt for lying to Tom. It’ll be better this way, he thinks. At least, until Tom’s ready for the truth. But until then, he’ll settle for comforting his boyfriend until the pain goes away.

…

It’s really late when Tord gets home, the demon feeling drained from a long day’s work. As expected, the landlord has been mildly pissed off at him for the last couple of weeks, causing Tord to have to earn back their trust by doing odd jobs around the complex, whether it be fixing leaky pipes or repairing damages, he’s been taking care of everything. He groans at the memory of today’s job, it having been to clean up after a pixie party on the fourth floor. If Tord ever sees another pixie, he’s gonna grind it down into a spice and season it on some family’s Thanksgiving dinner.

Figuring that Tom’s likely fast asleep by now, Tord’s quiet once he gets to his floor, footsteps unheard as he approaches his apartment’s door. He fishes for his keys, struggling to find the right one, when he hears a muffled conversation from the other side of the door. The demon pauses, feeling uncomfortable. Who’s in his apartment? Forgoing his keys, Tord uses his powers to release the lock and open the door, using a low level spell to keep the door from squeaking. Inside, Tom’s on the couch, staring at the tv in the dark, his eyes unable to look away from the screen.

Tord automatically relaxes, making a move to walk inside and turn on the light, but he stops, recognizing the news story on tv with dread. “-we will soon be evacuating the area while the police deactivate the machine. We insist that all passerby and families stay in their homes until the problem is resolved.”

Slowly, as if sensing Tord’s presence, Tom stares up at him, tears rolling down his face. “It… it wasn’t a car accident,” He mumbles his words, looking shocked and afraid. “That monster… that’s me, isn’t it?”

Tord swallows. He knew that Tom would find out someday, but… he didn’t want it to be like this. “Yes,” He says, swallowing the bile in his throat as he begins to lie through his teeth. “That’s you, but… you couldn’t have known, Thomas. You’ve likely had this power your whole life, never having known it. It’s not uncommon for paranormals to develop their powers later on in life, although you are a particularly late bloomer.” He moves in to hug Tom, to try and make it all better, but Tom’s up in an instant, expression petrified.

“G-Get back!” Tom orders, visibly struggling not to shift as a tidal wave of emotions overtake him, throwing the man into a panic attack. “I’m too dangerous!”

“Oh, Thomas…” Tord tries to keep the worry and panic out of his voice, but it’s hard when Jon’s death is still fresh in his mind. “It’s true that you are rather formidable, but I can help you. I’ve been trying to help you. All those medications? They’re to help you get a grip on your powers. I’ve known since the day we met what you were, and now I’m going to help you through this. It’s going to get better, Tom.”

The words seem to get Tom to calm down a bit, his shift ending before he can change into a monster. Without much encouragement, Tom’s in Tord’s arms, trying hard not to cry as he tries to deal with this new revelation. Tord, in the meantime, feels like the real monster. He’s lying over and over again to Tom to save his own ass, but he honestly believes that lying is better than the harsh truth. It’s better this way… Tord keeps repeating that to himself internally as he hugs Tom close, willing away his guilt as much as he can.

…

Tom keeps to himself for the next few days, preferring the dog’s company over Tord’s. Tord accepts this as well as he can- he starts stressing over it like hell. He can’t help it; he’s scared that Tom could shift again at any moment and there’s jack he can do about it. He’s thought of tying some meds to Hamilton’s collar, but the dog has been glued to Tom’s side since the rampage, so Tord can’t exactly get ahold of him. He’s also considered just breaking into Tom’s room and forcing him to take medication, but there’s too high of a risk that Tom will shift. So Tord’s been forced to bide his time, taking a break from working around the complex to help his boyfriend through all this.

It’s only after a few days of occasionally eavesdropping that Tord starts to hear Tom talking to himself. At first, he chalks it up to Tom talking to Hammy out of boredom or desperation, but that’s soon dashed away when it becomes apparent that someone’s talking back to him, although Tord can’t tell who it is. For all he knows, it could be another resident, but there are only a handful of paranormals in the complex that can teleport/materialize through walls/floors, and none of them have taken an interest in Tom or Tord before, so why should they now? Tord just can’t wrap his head around it.

Deciding that there’s no other way to find out, Tord makes Tom dinner and waits outside the man’s door, listening in.

“Oh, wow!” A somewhat familiar voice exclaims, sounding excited. “You’re really good on guitar! I wish you would play more!”

“I can play another song, if that’s what you want. I don’t know much more though; I’m so out of practice.” Tom almost sounds relaxed when he talks to the unknown entity, but Tord can still hear the hesitance in his tone.

“Aw, that’s okay!” The stranger promises, not even noticing Tom’s discomfort. “You’re so good either way, Tommy! You need to give yourself some more credit!”

“Thanks,” Tom still sounds upset, but he quickly dusts it away. “I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, man… after all I’ve done to you. I ruined your life.”

Ruined his life? Was this the spirit of a bank heist victim? Tord can’t see how, as most casualties had been done without any other options, and Tord figures no dead cops will be happy with Tom or the other crew members anytime soon. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when the unknown entity responds to Tom. “Oh, you never ruined my life, Tommy. If anything, you made it so much better! Now I get to be a monster too, and it’s all thanks to you! I can’t wait to finally tell Eduardo!”

Eduardo!? Oh god, it can’t be… “You don’t have to lie to me, Jon,” Tom says, voice somber and guilty. “I know what I did, and now I’m paying for it. But I’ll make this up to you somehow; I’ll learn to control my powers and I’ll never hurt you or anyone else again.”

Tord sits down outside Tom’s room, head in his hands as he absorbs the information. Jon’s a ghost? How? Well, his death WAS rather traumatic, but plenty of humans have died of car accidents and not stayed chained in the spirit realm. Did Jon have unfinished business? Sure, he hadn’t been able to live a full life, but plenty of souls die young and move on. And how was he haunting the apartment complex without any inside help? It was extremely difficult for spirits- especially newly deads- to haunt an already magically influenced area, so for Jon to do so was quite impressive. That, or Tom has inadvertently bound Jon’s spirit here through his own guilt.

Actually, that does make a lot of sense, now that Tord thinks about it. Tom may’ve killed Jon, but the two share a bond regardless, and it’s not hard for loved ones or friends to bind their dead friends/significant others to themselves, creating a tether around themselves to keep the dead from leaving. Also, it seems that Jon’s a very willing prisoner, causing him to not become a violent spirit or poltergeist. With this in mind, Tord slowly gets out of earshot of Tom’s bedroom. This is big news! If Eduardo finds out, maybe he’ll finally let Tord off the hook for this mess, and then Tord won’t have to worry about Eduardo spilling the beans to Tom. Sure, he still has a few other residents to worry about, but since when has keeping secrets been hard around here?

Not wasting any time, Tord takes off out of the apartment and downstairs, banging on Eduardo’s apartment door in excitement. After a while, Mark answers the door, looking somber and depressed. “Oh… it’s you,” The zombie mumbles, looking neither mad nor happy to see Tord, just… sad. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Eduardo! It’s a miracle!” Tord promises, positively beaming. “Jon’s back!”

That gets Mark’s eyes to widen, the zombie looking horrified, then even happier than Tord. “Jon’s alive!? Where is he!?”

From inside the apartment, Tord hears a tired grunt. “What’s with all the racket? Mark, I told ya, don’t mention him or I swear I’ll-” He stops mid-sentence, spotting Tord in the hallway. “Why you son of a- What’re you doing here? Here to pour salt in the wounds, hotshot?”

Tord pushes past Mark, unafraid of Eduardo’s obvious aggression. “Eduardo! I have excellent news!” He assures, almost hugging Eduardo, but he holds back. He can’t risk getting a punch to the face, after all. He can save the merrymaking for when he tells Eduardo the good news. “Jon is back from the dead! Well… not really. He’s still very much dead. But he hasn’t moved onto the afterlife! He’s not bowling with the angels! Your little friend has abandoned his body to become a spirit, and he’s haunting the building!”

Eduardo just stands there, stunned, before his face twists in rage. “He’s WHAT!?”

“Eh…” Tord’s confused. Why isn’t Eduardo jumping for joy? Shouldn’t he be happy? Maybe he just doesn’t get it- he’s probably been soaking in too many rads lately. “He hasn’t kicked the bucket entirely? Come now, friend, you should be happy that he’s still here! Now there’s no need for a silly little funeral- unless he had loved ones, in which case he most certainly should have one, as to not raise suspicions. But forget all that; your friend is back and very, very happy about it!”

Eduardo only looks more enraged, before he calms down enough to actually speak to Tord. “Silly little funeral? You asshole- we already had it! He’s already been buried! I had to hold his weeping ma the whole time, and you’re tellin’ me to let that all go? To go back to normal?” He advances on Tord, livid in every sense of the word. “How long have you had him? Were you hiding him from me? I swear, I’m gonna-”

“Eduardo, please calm down,” Mark insists, coming to stand between Tord and the dryad. “Judging by Tord’s words, he only just found out! Not all spirits come back right away! And I know things have been hard, especially for you, but with Jon back, you can finally let all this unnecessary anger go.”

“You have no right to say how hard it’s been! You weren’t there! You weren’t home when he left, or home when he died! You don’t GET to tell me how I should feel!” Breathing through clenched teeth, Eduardo calms down from his angry high just a bit, before training his eyes on Tord, neon green tears in the dryad’s eyes. “You know this ain’t fixed, right? Look, Jon’s back, and that’s… I dunno yet. But what I DO know is that Tom’s still a fucking threat, and he’s gonna get somebody else if you don’t do something about it! And if you don’t, I will.”

Tord growls, glaring at Eduardo predatorily. “I won’t let you hurt him…” He threatens, tone deathly calm considering how protective he is of Tom. “Besides, none of this is his fault. You were right; I’m the one to blame here. I’m the one who decided to turn him into a monster. I’m the one who injected him with all those serums. If you want someone to blame, blame me.”

“You… you what?”

Everyone freezes, turning to the open doorway. There stands Tom, with Jon hovering by his side, baby blue and see-through. Jon’s got his hands over his mouth, while Tom just stands there, horrified beyond belief.

Tord pauses, trying to come up with a good excuse for this. “Now, Thomas, that wasn’t what it sounded like…” He lies, but he knows it falls flat. He doesn’t even sound convincing to himself.

Tom’s face scrunches up in anger. “You dirty fucking liar.” Tom mutters, before taking off to the complex’s stairwell.

Without a second thought, Tord follows after him.

…

They don’t talk for days.

Or, more accurately, Tom doesn’t talk for days and Tord tries and fails to resolve the problem.

It’s not like there’s much he can say, though. After all, he made himself into a Frankenstein and Tom was the end result; a fucked up monster who never asked for any of this. But instead of fearing and hating his creation, Tord still loves Tom to death, and would give anything to undo this. Really, he’d give anything to undo ALL of this. He almost wishes he’d never met Tom- then Tom would’ve gone on to have a normal boyfriend and normal neighbors and a normal fucking life. But now all of that’s gone. Tom can never escape this Hell, and it’s all Tord’s fault.

Tord spends most of his time at home moping, ignoring phone calls and refusing to leave the apartment. He can’t risk leaving Tom on his own, not when he’s still unable to take proper care of himself. He can’t even focus on research, not when he’s so guilt-ridden and worried for Tom. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s held Tom in his arms, and the lack of regular physical contact is making him unbelievably antsy, the demon beginning to build up tension and anger in his body, almost always staying half-shifted as a result. He knows full-well that this can only end horribly, but whatever- he’s had just about enough bullcrap, and enough is enough. He can’t take anymore of this. He’s settling this, whether Tom’s ready or not.

He stands up from the couch, ready to storm into Tom’s room, but before Tord can go for the hallway, he hears Tom’s door open ever so slightly. Holding back, Tord hides behind the couch, keeping hidden in an attempt to attract Tom out of his room. There’s a pause, in which Tord can hear every slight sound as Tom considers his options. He apparently comes to a conclusion, as the man soon tiptoes out of his bedroom, Hamilton right on his heels. The brunet’s careful to keep quiet as he approaches the kitchen, and Tord follows his example, covering his mouth with his hands until Tom’s got himself inadvertently cornered in the kitchen.

Tord rises slowly, not wanting to give Tom the chance to run for it. “We need to talk, Thomas,” The demon explains, ignoring the way Tom jolts in surprise, the man shivering out of fear of what exactly Tord will do. It absolutely breaks Tord’s heart. “I’m not mad… you have to understand, I never wanted to hurt you. I just… wanted to make you stronger. To keep you safe. But I understand that what I did was wrong, and while it didn’t go quite as planned-”

“Not quite as planned?” Tom repeats Tord’s words, before turning to meet his eyes, his own void-like and harsh, though he still appears somewhat cautious. “You ruined my life,” He corrects, vicious and unforgiving. “You think you can just… manipulate me? Drug me and pretend it’s for my own good? I was plenty strong before, in-case you forgot. I’ve gunned down police by your side, for Christ’s sake! I thought you respected me, but now I see that I’m just a toy to you; a toy you can play with and alter on a whim. One minute we’re like newlyweds, the next, I’m a science experiment.”

“Now hold on,” Tord can’t hide his anger anymore, the aggression in his voice showing, yet it doesn’t cause Tom to back down, to his surprise. “You have no right to say that. I did my best! I was protecting you. I am protecting you! If I left, Eduardo or someone else would kill you!”

“Is that a threat?” Tom snaps, unimpressed by Tord’s anger. “You think you can scare me into being a good little boy? Well guess what, asshole, I ain’t afraid anymore! I’m not gonna let some goat demon tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re so full of crap, Tord!!”

Just as Tord opens his mouth to shout back at Tom, Hamilton let’s out a scared little whimper. At once, both men pause, glancing down at their puppy. “I should go,” Tom bites out, scooping up an abnormally quiet Hamilton into his arms. “I’m gonna crash at Matt’s… don’t you dare follow me.” With that, he storms out, leaving Tord to wonder how in the world he could’ve messed up this fucking bad.

…

Despite trying his hardest not to, Tord falls into a depression. He’s had depression before, but it’s been years since it’s been this bad. Not since before he met Paul and Patryk. Not caring to stay home any longer, Tord goes back to working on people’s apartments, fixing everything he can as a way of distracting his mind from thinking of Tom. ‘He hates you he hates you he hates you he never wants to see you again you really fucked up this time, Tord’- All Tord can do to ignore the endless chanting is work, using his brain for anything but feelings. It’s not until a few days have passed that someone intervenes.

“Oh, leader…” Patryk mutters, his voice sounding far away to Tord’s ears. “What’s happened to you?”

“Whuzat?” Tord’s groggy as he comes to, realizing too late that he’d passed out from exhaustion while fixing someone’s toilet, his knees soaked in water from having slipped into the toilet’s seat. “Pat? What’re you doin’ here?” He asks, mindlessly using his hands to continue working on the toilet.

“Sir, we’re here for an intervention,” Paul deadpans, looking very concerned for his leader. “We’ve been trying to contact you for days, but you’ve failed to respond. As your packmates, it’s our duty to protect and help you.”

“But… I’m a monster… literally,” Tord explains, his voice depressed and hopeless. “There’s no hope for me, boys. You should go help Tom… and that’s an order.”

Paul and Patryk share a look, before, in one swift movement, Patryk scoops up Tord rather effortlessly, visibly cringing in sympathy when the demon leans heavily into the other, starved of physical contact. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re…” Paul hesitates, before shaking it away. “Fuck it. We’re disobeying orders whether you like it or not. And that’s final.” He looks very uncomfortable saying all that, but regardless, Tord’s rather impressed by the display.

“He’s right,” Patryk confirms, able to disobey pack dynamics much easier than Paul, who’s been raised on those beliefs since birth. “Look at yourself, sir. You’re an absolute mess, and Tom already has Matt to help him. Someone needs to help you right now.” With that said, the werewolf carries him out of the bathroom.

They get a few stares going by, but no one questions the werewolves as they take Tord out of the complex and buckle him into the backseat of their minivan. The wolves make careful banter between each other, leaving Tord to mope and scowl in the backseat, feeling like a toddler being driven around by their overbearing parents. However, Tord doesn’t have long to brood, as they soon arrive at their mystery location. Tord blinks in confusion once they park, giving the outside world a curious look through the window. They’re at a public park, but it’s nightfall, meaning there’s no one around, save for a handful of couples and teenagers.

Paul and Patryk immediately pile out of the car, Patryk getting out and stretching while Paul gently pulls Tord out, ignoring the demon’s small hisses and glares. As angry as Tord is with being kidnapped, he’d never dream of laying a hand on Paul or Patryk. Once he’s out of the car, Tord takes a closer look around, seeing that there’s a number of playscapes, jungle gyms, swing sets, and picnic tables in the shadow-covered park. If Tord were a feral demon, he might have at one time considered this place as optimal hunting ground for fresh meat. Yes, with so many careless teenagers and couples around, this would be the perfect time and place for a kill.

Those thoughts are interrupted, however, when Paul grabs his forearm and leads him to a picnic table, sitting him down in front of Patryk before taking a seat beside him. “I hope you like BLTs, boss,” Patryk says, giving Tord a big, encouraging grin. “I tried to make the bacon just how you like it. We even brought a doggy bag with extra in-case you wanted a snack for our walk later!”

Tord just stares at Patryk in confusion, before a BLT sandwich is pushed in front of him, looking to have extra bacon. Just how he likes it. The demon hesitates, not knowing whether he’s hungry or not. However, he soon swallows his anxiety and takes a bite, much to Paul and Pat’s obvious relief. He gets about half the sandwich down before he taps out, but that doesn’t seem to upset the werewolves. They just seem happy that he ate anything at all. The wolves eat quickly, barely fitting in any smalltalk before they’re done, already whisking Tord away before he can run off on them. Tord would be impressed by their resourcefulness to keep him around if he weren’t still struggling to not dissociate.

The only thing that stops Tord from completely leaving the station is Paul’s sudden Dutch accent in his ear. “The air is so nice tonight, boss,” Paul murmurs, barely biting back a howl when he sees the moon overhead, not yet full but rather close. Tord gives it a skeptical look; it should be full within a week or so. “I’m glad we have you here… it’s been forever since we’ve been able to spend time with you.”

Tord hesitates on responding, but he can’t resist Paul’s bright-eyed smile. “Yes it… has been a rather long time. I forgot how much I missed this.”

Tord’s words cause Paul to light up, and if Tord wasn’t already head over heels for Tom, he might’ve found Paul’s smile attractive, but such a thought is dashed away when he sees Patryk grinning at Paul with lovestruck eyes. God… they’re so in love. It honestly makes Tord a bit jealous, seeing them like this, but he still smiles, keeping up a steady pace behind the couple while they walk through the forest, the wolves holding hands as they go. The entire time, Paul and Patryk stay in half-shift, pointing out everything to each other while discussing the things they see in excited voices.

Out of nowhere, Tord’s reminded of ‘the good old days’. Of the days before he met Tom, of when it was just Tord, Paul, and Patryk as a gang. He remembers how he’d gag when they kissed or flirted, and how he’d roll his eyes when they held hands in public. It had been so grating to Tord… How had he ever believed that he’d never feel like that for a person someday? It makes Tord feel all the guiltier for ruining his relationship with Tom, and yet… He stares at the couple in front of him, gut twisting as he sees a vision of himself and Tom in their positions, all heartfelt and romantic and together. It fills Tord with… determination.

“Boys, um, can we talk for a moment?” Immediately, both Paul and Pat come to a halt, turning to give Tord their full attention. “I think I have an idea on how to fix this mess, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help. I know I have no right to ask for your assistance- not after all I’ve done- but even if it won’t fix my relationship with Tom, it might just save him from… himself. I can’t let him live like this.”

Without even sharing a look or hesitating, both wolves run to Tord and hug him, filling the demon with warmth as he revels in the physical affection. “We’re with you, Red Leader. Until the very end.” Patryk promises, nuzzling into his packmate’s chest.

Paul nods eagerly in agreement. “We’ll help in any way we can. Just say the word!”

“Oh, boys… what did I do to get such loyal friends such as yourselves?” Tord murmurs, holding back thankful tears, as corny as it is. Back as a whelpling in Hell, there’d been no such things as ‘friends’ or ‘trust’. There had only been your name and rank. Nothing else. It feels amazing to have so much more than that now. “I promise you both, I will fix this mess, and we’ll all be a family again.” He assures, petting both wolves in earnest.

He’ll find a way to fix this. He’ll get Tom back. Even if it takes a thousand years, he’ll find a way. After all, he’s got his boys by his side. Nothing can stop him now.

…

Within a couple of days, Tord absolutely trashes Paul and Pat’s apartment, the living room floor becoming his own Fortress of Solitude, at least to a certain degree. Patryk and Paul occasionally join him, whether it’s to recharge him with physical contact, to supply more books, or to help him with research. Despite their best efforts, however, Tord’s mood swings up and down, unable to find a place to stay while he drowns in his books and papers. He has a basic idea of what he needs to do; create some sort of cure or handicap to help Tom get ahold of his newfound powers. It’s easier said than done.

As much as Tord prides himself in his tinkering and inventing skills, he’s no God- Tom’s serum to make him what he is today took months and months of hard work, but Tord’s working against the clock here. At any given moment, Tom will shift again, and they might not be able to stop him this time. Besides, if that weren’t stressful enough, Tord feels like he’s struggling on all fronts. As closely related as they are, science and magic are hard to use together, and that alone is enough to drag Tord’s research back by months.

“This is impossible,” Tord growls under his breath, chucking his book across the room so that it hits the opposite wall, leaving a dent in the drywood. “No man can solve this!”

“Not to state the obvious, sir, but you aren’t exactly ‘man’. I’m sure you’ll get it sooner or later,” Patryk says, crouching down by Tord to give him an encouraging pat on the back. “All you need is a little time and patience.”

“Which I have neither of,” Tord snaps, before his gaze softens, the demon giving Patryk an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, friend… I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m just under much pressure. Tom is a loose cannon, and we have no idea when the fuse will be lit.”

“That’s dramatic,” Paul comments from the kitchen, washing the dishes in an attempt to at least keep his kitchen clean. “Why not rest for a minute, leader? You could use the sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep, Paul. I need a solution,” Tord corrects, before picking up another book, this one labeled ‘An Alchemist’s Guide to Unforgivable Crimes Against Nature: Now in Russian’. He hasn’t dug into this book since he first started working on Tom’s initial serum, but perhaps he kept his notes…

Luck seems to favor Tord, as all of his old notes are still there, save for the few sketches he had made of what he THOUGHT Tom would look like. Boy, had he been wrong. Pushing those thoughts aside, Tord rapidly rereads the papers, at times struggling to make out his own sleep-deprived, senseless scribbles. It’s a miracle he even got this to work. There’s not much there, save for a list of ingredients that Tord doesn’t remember making. Did he write this? It’s most certainly his handwriting, but he has no memory of the list. There isn’t even a title. However, Tord soon spots something on the list that makes him pause, eyes going wide in astonishment.

‘In-case of over-exposure, treat the poisoning with direct injection of zeolites to negate the radiation.’

“Eureka!” Tord jumps up in a flash, spooking Paul in the kitchen and accidentally throwing Patryk off of him in the process. “I have it! I can fix this!”

“Wait!” Paul practically stampedes out of the kitchen, looking confused and more than a bit shellshocked. “What’s going on? Do you have the cure already? Sir?” But it’s too late; Tord’s gone before Patryk even hits the ground.

…

He’s not sure what to do with himself, or rather, he’s not sure what to do with his concoction. The demon is in the final stages of creating it when he realizes he still needs to get Tom’s approval.

He can’t go back and give it to Tom secretly. No, this time Tom needs to agree to it: give his full consent. He sighs, rubbing his aching head. Like Tom will agree to this after what I’ve done. He knows that it can work, and given enough time, he’s sure that within a few years, Tom will be happy that Tord did this. Yes, if all goes according to plan, then Tord’s life can finally get back to normal again. Just the thought lights his insides up, but everytime he makes his way to Matt’s apartment, he loses his courage and goes back to his own place.

What if Tom won’t take it? It won’t be that surprising to Tord if that happens, but regardless, he hopes that Tom might listen to reason. ‘Like you should have?’ A voice mocks from an unknown location in Tord’s mind, causing the demon to growl inwardly- ‘It’s your fault you’re in this mess to begin with’. Tord punches his head in anger, successfully pushing back his nagging conscious, although the pain leaves him with an almost unbearable migraine afterwards. This is getting him nowhere. The incubi sighs, giving his feet a thoughtful look. He has to get Tom to drink it- he just has to. It’s the only way to start fixing this mess.

It’s not until Tord’s out the door that he’s again having second thoughts. What if Tom doesn’t answer? Is he even home? All of these worries overflow Tord’s brain while he struggles to beat down his own anxiety, though it’s about as successful as trying to put a forest fire out with half a cup of water. Tord’s halfway through an internal rant when the door to Matt’s apartment swings open, Tom looking like an absolute wreck on the other side. He’s half-shifted, and his face is pale and sickly.

“Hey, Tord,” Tom interrupts the self-deprecating monologue without even his realizing it, voice sounding groggy and tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, if at all. “What’s up?”

Well, he isn’t yelling yet. That’s a good sign. “Can I, um… can I come in?” Tord asks, not feeling very comfortable with talking about this in the hallway.

Tom hesitates, before nodding and stepping aside for the Norwegian. Tord hurries inside, giving the living room a quick onceover. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, save for Matt’s usual bad taste in furniture, but Tord can’t see any obvious signs of damage. However, Tord feels an uneasiness wash over him. He looks around expectantly, not really sure where he’s looking for. Didn’t Tom take something with him? Something important? Tord paces through the kitchen and hallway, Tom right on his heels, sipping from a canteen of what smells like alcohol. Alcohol? Since when did Tom drink during the daytime?

Just as Tord thinks to ask Tom about it, his eyes land on an empty dog dish on the floor, and it all adds up. “Where’s Hamilton?” He asks, crouching by the couch to look around for the corgi. “Hammy? Pupper? Thomas, have you seen-” The demon cuts off his speech when he sees Tom’s face, his expression blank and depressed.

Tom shrugs, not looking very interested. “Dunno…” He admits, looking around a bit, though he doesn’t seem to think finding Hamilton is very important right now. “Took him for a walk, then I got a headache… the rest is kinda blurry,” He scowls at the floor, appearing angry with himself. “I think he… wanted off the leash. Seemed scared. Didn’t wanna hurt him so I just sorta… let him off the leash.”

Tord stares in horror at Tom, before his gaze softens. “Oh God, Thomas… I’m so sorry,” He whispers, pulling the short Brit into a tight hug, ignoring the contact-high in favor of focusing his attention entirely on comforting his estranged boyfriend. “I should’ve been here, with you, but instead I let my own feelings scare me away. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tom seems partially confused, further confirming Tord’s theory that the poor boy’s drunk as all Hell and beyond. Regardless, he leans into Tord, humming in contentment. “I’ve missed this,” He admits, running one of his hands over Tord’s hoodie, enlarged nails catching occasionally on the fabric. “I’m sorry that I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Tom. I am. I’m the one who’s done this to you,” Tord says, petting Tom’s hair. “I’ve made your life worse than Hell.”

Tom pauses, pulling back to give Tord a weird look. “… Guess that makes you kind of a jerk, huh?” He states rather unabashedly, the alcohol in his system cutting off his brain-to-mouth filter in favor of just saying whatever’s on his mind.

Tord laughs, tears building up in his eyes until they’re overflowing, dripping onto Tom’s shoulder once he hugs him close again. “Yeah… I guess I kinda am, huh? I’m just a big, horrible jerk.”

Tom softens visibly, before hugging Tord even tighter, secretly pressing a kiss to his chest. “Well, even if you’re a jerk, I still love you.”

That just makes Tord cry a bit harder, momentarily forgetting about the serum. He’ll talk with Tom about it later- for now, he’s perfectly happy with just holding Tom until all this bullcrap fades away.

…

“Hey, you up?”

Tord grunts, giving his waker a grimace. After his earlier breakdown, he crashed on Matt’s couch while Tom took the spare bedroom. After all, he doesn’t want to force himself onto Tom, not while their relationship is still so obviously damaged. Slowly, the incubi sits up, biting his lower lip in pain, a headache making itself known. He must’ve dehydrated himself with all that crying, as embarrassing as that is for him to admit. As if realizing this, his waker walks off momentarily, before returning to his side with a glass of water. Tord takes it gladly, chugging it down in an eager rush.

“You alright?” It takes a second, but Tord quickly recognizes his waker as Tom. What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be sleeping?

“I’m fine,” Tord mumbles, voice still tired and craving sleep. He shakes it away though, much more eager to talk with Tom instead. “How about you? Holding up?”

Tom shrugs, taking a seat on the end of the couch, placing Tord’s legs over his lap so that he can sit down better. “I guess I’m alright,” He says, though he doesn’t look convinced. He glances at Tord, trying to figure his words out. “… So what are you doing here, Tord? Finally ready to explain this? ‘Cus let me tell you, I kinda wanna know what kinda fucked up monster I am.”

Tord nods in understanding, secretly reveling in his legs being on Tom’s lap. Sure, Paul and Patryk’s touches have been plenty rejuvenating these last few days, but to be touched by his significant other… it’s almost enough to lull Tord back to sleep, but he resists the urge. “In all honesty, I’m not sure what exactly you are, classification-wise. Yes, many mad scientists have created Frankenstein-like creatures, but nothing like this has happened in recorded history. You could be classified as a kind of changeling, but most changelings have several different forms, therefore I’m not sure-”

“-Not like that,” Tom interrupts, unimpressed by Tord’s response. “I mean, am I safe to even be around? Am I like Balis?”

Tord softens, biting back his urge to shift and nuzzle Tom’s cheek. “Of course you’re safe, Thomas,” He promises, before brightening, all at once remembering why he even came here. “In fact, I‘m working on a new serum in my lab that shoul-!” He starts off excitedly, eager to gain Tom’s favor again.

But Tom immediately reels back, looking very visibly scared and upset. “No. Fuck no. I’m not letting you experiment on me anymore!” He explains, shivering at the idea of it.

It takes every bit of Tord’s self-control to not break down right there. He’s made Tom afraid of him now- dang it dang it dang it- but… he knows that this can help him. That this can save him. He just needs Tom to trust him one more time. “Look, Tom… I’ve been a real piece of shit for the last few months. I’ve made your life so much more complicated. But I know that this can help you. It’ll be like a deterrent- it will lower your radiation levels and keep you from transforming until we can find a way to safely train you in your abilities, or better yet, find a way to cure you. If you have any trust in me left, then please… give this a shot. All I want is to keep you safe, and this is all I’ve got left to do that.”

Tom glances between Tord and the floor, weighing his options with caution. Slowly, Tom nods while bringing his gaze back up to Tord, inky black void meeting bright red. Tord can see the terrified hesitation in Tom’s eyes, but he can also see that deep down, after all this, he trusts him.

“When do we start?” Tom questions, giving Tord a nervous glance.

“I’ll get to work on it right away. I should have a finished chemical solution within the next day. For now, though-” He sits up and hugs Tom as tight as he can, almost going limp as the tension leaves his body. “-I’m just glad you’re finally safe, Thomas.”

Tom rolls his eyes, but still ruffles Tord’s hair, giving the demon a lopsided smirk. “Yeah yeah, quit the waterworks, drama queen,” He orders halfheartedly, running his fingers through Tord’s light brown locks. “… You wanna watch a movie? One with a cheesy ending?” He offers, picking up the remote to the TV off the coffee table.

Tord nods eagerly, smiling in contentment as he leans on Tom. Finally, he can rest peacefully. He can relax after all this worrying. As a result, he’s out cold within the first ten minutes of the movie, yet he never feels Tom leave his side. Not even once.

…

“That’s it?” Tom asks, suspicious of the green liquid. They’re still getting back to that complete trust they had before, but right now, Tord’s willing to take what he can get.

Tord nods, kind of proud of the serum he’s made. “It should be a sort of ‘nuclear suppressant’. It should make you less likely to transform at first, but over time, I’m hoping that it will cure you of your, uh… Affliction.”

Tom snorts at Tord’s word choice, but decides to just ask about the serum. “So how does it work, like- Do I just drink it?” The demon gives a small noise in affirmation.

“Drink it and it should reduce your headaches, symptoms, etcetera. If something happens like you’re actually shifting, I have a stronger concoction that is meant to be injected,” He supplies the pen-like injector to Tom. “You can use it on yourself if you’re quick enough, but if not I’ll be keeping one on hand as well, just in case.” Tom nods slowly.

“Lots of fail-safes, huh?”

Tord shrugs sheepishly. “I just doubt myself a lot these days.” The slight change in the human’s facial expression at the words gives off pity, but Tord ignores it, smiling tiredly. “Go on, though, give it a drink, tell me how it is!”

Tom hesitantly takes a sip after sniffing the liquid once more, and pulls a face once he’s done. “It’s certainly not tasty,” He quips, scrunching up his nose. Tord laughs a bit at that, taking the solution back.

“I’ll see if I can improve the taste any. If all else fails I’ll increase the potency and you can just mix it with your drinks.” He pauses though, going over the chemical components in his head. “Probably not alcohol, though.

The human lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “What even is the point, then?” The two share a chuckle and shy smiles.

This can work, Tord thinks.

…

Tom’s on the serum for about four weeks and he reports back every day how he’s been feeling. Tord marks it all down and goes over the data, excited and giddy. It seems to be working; whenever Tom remembers to drink the proper amount of serum he has remarkably less headaches, mood swings, and bouts of intense hunger. He still gets his craving for meat, but Tord expected a few permanent changes, not to mention there was still time for some of the symptoms to fade.

In all honesty, Tord thought it would be impossible to change Tom back to completely human, but the results from his research don’t lie: his boyfriend’s getting better. The news has been uplifting everyone’s spirits, so, in an effort to keep them high Tord surprises Tom with dinner reservations at the local fancy restaurant.

“We normally don’t do ritzy,” Tom manages when Tord tells him the news.

“We can do ritzy.” The demon tries to say but even he knows the statement falls flat. A pause, then, “You have a suit, sweet boy?” The human groans at the nickname.

“I think I do somewhere,” He gets up, scratching his side while he looks around. Tord notices that he almost pats his thigh as if to call the dog, but he hesitates and lets the arm fall to his side. Tord feels a pang of guilt but tries to take his mind off it by helping him look.

After looking around the closet, some (still) unpacked boxes, and anything else that opens, they manage to find a pair of dress pants, a tie, and a pair of nice shoes that all seem to fit Tom, but none of it matches and the tie has a big stain on the front.

“Guess we’ll need to go suit shopping,” Tord mutters, scratching his head.

“Do you have a suit??” Tom demands, trying to feel at least a little better. Tord smirks and snaps his fingers, and in a flash of flame he has a handsome dark suit on, with a bright red tie to match his eyes. The human narrows his eyes and mutters, “You asshole.” Before stomping off to find his wallet.

Things are finally getting back to normal.

…

They go out and find a perfect suit for Tom: it’s a dark grey, just a few shades lighter than Tord’s, and it already fits him perfect. They also find a pair of smiley face cufflinks, which after a few minutes of bickering while trying to decide if it’s even appropriate, they end up buying them. Tord can tell that Tom is already quite fond of them.

The pair visit a few more shops and browse, remarking on anything they can to try and get a laugh out of another. It’s too soon when Tord realizes that their reservations for ‘Ritz Central’ (as Tom has been referring to it for the last few hours) are fast approaching, so they swing back by the apartment to prep and then make their way to the establishment.

Five minutes in and it’s already at a rocky start. It takes them forty minutes to be seated, despite the reservation (there was a mistake in the books or something, Tord was fuming). They finally sit down and Tord tries to make a joke but Tom is straight faced, impassive, unmoved.

Tord thinks he’s going to actually die.

The waiter comes, he’s kind of rude about how their hair is styled and Tord has to bite back an insult in fear of embarrassing Thomas. He takes their orders and shuffles of and the demon sighs.

“Sorry this hasn’t been great so far…” He starts with, trying to make amends, but Tom just shrugs. Tord starts fiddling with his napkin. “At least the mall was fun…?” Another shrug.

“We don’t do ritzy.” Tom states flatly and Tord does his best to not look crestfallen right away.

“Guess not,” He mutters, turning away to avoid showing Tom he’s disappointed.

They sit in silence for a while, Tord floundering to find a way to save the night. He ultimately orders more wine, which seems to make Tom a little happier. It’s the small successes. They drink and do their best to make small talk when they can, sipping during awkward silences. At one point Tord swirls his glass and Tom mimics him, just more exaggerated. It ends up in a wine swirling contest which ends with lots of people staring.

Tom falters, not liking all the faces on him, and Tord frowns deeply. He sends a hot glare at all the prudes who turn their noses up at the pair, but the damage has been done, and Tom’s back to silent and anxious.

The food finally comes, and they start eating the fancy meal. Tom ends up not really liking his, Tord can tell from the expression shift, but still the human chooses not to say anything and he shovels the dissatisfactory food in his mouth.

“Ha, you think a place this fancy would at least know how to cook a steak?” Tord jokes, but apparently it’s the wrong thing to say, because Tom stops mid-chew and throws the demon a look so fierce it should’ve killed him. It kind of does, in a way.

Tord looks down at his plate, deciding he’s not very hungry, and Tom sighs, pushing his food forward. “Maybe we should just get this to go.” And Tord nods sadly. They’re waiting for the waiter to come back with the check when someone next to them gets champaign, and the bottle is so loud it startles everyone in the room, including both Tom and Tord.

Tom jumps so far, though, that he bumps a waiter behind him, who drops a dish of something hot onto a lady’s lap. She starts screaming, the waiter starts apologizing furiously, and worst of all: everyone else starts laughing.

Thomas looks like he’s about to cry.

He sits down, eyes looking directly at his lap and hands stiff at his sides. Tord wants desperately to comfort him, but also not make more of a scene in front of the entire restaurant. He fumbles with the check once the waiter returns, but when he tells Tom they can go, he realizes that the human’s eyes have moved to become one big cyclops eye in the middle of his face.

Without a moment’s hesitation Tord takes off the jacket of his suit and throws it at Tom, who is already starting to stand to catch it. The shifting human pulls it over his head and runs towards the bathroom and the demon follows, pulling out the tiny gun he always keeps around his ankle. He summons his mask just like he did with his suit, and then he gets started evacuating.

“Everyone listen up!” He shouts, unloading a bullet in the ceiling. Everyone gasps at the sight. “I want all you obnoxious fuckers out of here before I tear every one of you apart. Get out of here single file: kids first, then adults. Take what you need, I don’t want your purses or wallets. I just want everyone out of the building NOW!” Tord punctuates the last word with a bullet and people pour out, more confused than terrified.

It seems like Tord doesn’t have a second to think before a spiny, purple monster pushes its way through the brick wall to his right, Kool-Aid Man style.

“Oh yeah,” Tord says under his breath, quickly shifting into his demon form and flapping out of the way when Tom’s huge fist plows its way into the ground, smashing a table in half on its way down. The demon figures his best bet for surviving is to just dodge each hit as he can, rolling or flying out of the way while Tom tires himself out.

Except he doesn’t. The beast is relentless as he slashes and bites at Tord, roaring in fury the entire time. In a fit of anger, Tom grabs a table and hurls it at him when he least expects it, hitting him square in the chest. He hits the wall with a choked out “Oof,” and immediately starts scrambling to move the table as best he can, remembering when Balis got thrown at the wall and Tom tore into his prone figure.

Instead of chasing, though, the monster sucks in a big breath and clacks its sharp teeth together, somehow managing to create a big gout of fire. Tord manages to get free in time, but the spot he was just at is engulfed in flame in a matter of seconds.

“You can breathe FIRE?!?” Tord exclaims, completely unaware of the fact. Monster Tom doesn’t respond but takes advantage of the demons shock to ram him with his huge horns. It was growing obvious that not only was Tom not tiring out, he was getting angrier as the minutes passed. Tord needed to find a way to sedate the monster immediately.

“The serum!” The demon shouts, in a moment of realization. All he had to do was get back to their table and find his jacket. Tom attempts to charge him again, but Tord flies above his head and past him, heading back to where the table they sat down at was. His jacket is nowhere to be found.

Tord smacks his forehead. “I gave it to him when he ran into the bathroom!” He recalls, spreading his wings to take off. Before he propels himself forward, though, Tom comes up from behind, roaring and grasping his right wing, yanking it back with intense force and breaking it like a twig. Tord cries out in pain and Tom shouts in victory, throwing the demon at the far wall.

Tord struggles to stand and shake himself off. Deciding now is probably not a good time for wings, he shifts all the way back to his human form, running as fast as he can to find some cover. Tom spits another fireball at him but luckily he dodges, jumping out of the way and over a table. He rolls for a bit, tucking in his limbs and skidding under another table.

Tom seems to have lost him because the loud roaring is replaced with a contemplative clicking, as well as a series of annoyed tail-slaps. Tord uses this moment to ready himself: he can summon the suit to him just like before, but it would create that flash of fire and Tom would know where he’s at. He needs to do it at the perfect time.

The monster sniffs the air loudly, slowly making its way towards Tord’s hiding spot. The demon readies his fingers, and holds perfectly still. 1… 2…

3!!

As soon as he snaps Tom resumes roaring, furious and beastial. Tord fishes through his pockets as quick as he can, trying desperately to find the injector that will knock Tom out- But the monster is back on him, grasping his entire body with one claw and squeezing down. Tord cries out but manages to pull his arms free, serum held high so he can bring it down hard enough to pierce Tom’s leathery flesh.

“Sorry about this one, babe!” He gasps, plunging the needle into Tom’s skin as hard as he can. Monster Tom howls in pain, dropping Tord immediately. The demon scampers away but stays close, watching Tom slowly and drowsily lie himself down with a *thud*.

Before Tord’s very eyes, Tom shifts back to his normal self, body shrinking and morphing. The transformation back isn’t as grotesque, Tord realizes when he doesn’t hear the bone snapping and shifting into place. It also takes a lot less time, because before he knows it, the small human he’s in love with is lying on the ground, groaning in exhaustion.

The Norwegian advances towards Tom slowly, making his way through the rubble and wreckage of the restaurant. He falls to his knees and inspects the human’s body to see if he’s gotten harmed, but there’s not a single scratch on him.

“Hey,” He says, trying to roust his boyfriend. “We gotta go before the cops get here.” Tom grumbles in response, shifting on the floor so he’s lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. The human refuses to speak, eyes just staring upwards and blinking slowly. Tord looks outside nervously but settles that the police haven’t arrived so they still have time. He lies down beside Tom and looks up with him, worried, tired, and anxious.

They don’t talk for a while. Just stare up at the claw and scorch marks that managed to get all the way up there. For once, Tord can’t even imagine what Tom’s thinking.

It isn’t until police sirens can start to be heard that Tom pipes up. “Tord,” He grumbles out, voice scratchy. The addressed demon turns to look at the human, watching the red and blue lights from the cops flashing across his tired face. Despite how loud the commotion is from outside, Tom’s next words are all Tord hears, and they ring in his head for hours afterwards.

“I think we should break up.”

…

They broke up. After managing to get home unbothered from the police and getting back into comfortable clothes, Tom packed up what he could and left to Matt’s apartment, promising to come back and talk to Tord when he could. He doesn’t take his medicine.

Tord goes through the week dazed, not doing much else other than repeating Tom’s words in his head, over and over again, and then going to bed when he can’t stand to hear it anymore. After a week Tord wakes up to Tom in the apartment, making breakfast for himself.

“Sup,” Tom says cooly. Tord doesn’t say a word, just sits down at the table and waits for the human to keep breaking his heart over scrambled eggs. “Don’t look so hot.” The demon doesn’t even respond and Tom sighs.

“Tord. We can’t keep doing this,” No response again, so he just keeps going. “Every time we’re separate you mope and it’s all you can focus on. How many times is this going to happen before I can just make you forget about me?” Despite the obvious frustration Tom must be feeling, he speaks calmly and evenly, just trying to make Tord understand.

But there’s no forgetting Tom, not after all they’ve been through. They’ve spent the last few years or so together, in every sense of the word. They’v heisted together, lived together, slept and ate together, made decisions together… Though, Tord supposes that he kind of did start making decisions for Tom in the end there. Really, after everything he put Tom through the human should hate him, but he can’t expect Tord to just forget and move on. It just couldn’t happen.

Tord conveys all of this by letting his head drop to the table, and Tom sighs.

“I guess I feel you there,” He mutters, putting two plates of eggs and bacon down before the pair. He sits next to Tord and starts shoveling food in his mouth. Tord manages to take a few bites of the bacon, finding satisfaction and comfort in the crunch as he chews.

“If you can’t forget me then we need to stay together,” Tom says and Tord freezes, shocked. “Not like how we were. We’ll probably never be like that again, but, like it or not, we rely a lot on each other. The money we share is all I have to my name, and it’s impossible for me to get a job now. Not to mention I need you to keep making my meds.” He sighs, obviously having worked all this out in his head and not liking the answer he came up with.

“So I’ll stay.”

It takes a while for Tord to process it all. Tom is staying, but things can’t be like they were. He’s not sure if he’ll be okay with that, in the long run, but he can do his best to put up some walls. After all, they don’t have a choice, like Tom said.

Tord nods, voice cracking out a small, “Okay.” Tom tuts and rubs the demons back slowly. Tord leans into it and sighs, appreciating the comfort.

The human chuckles softly. “Even though I want to so much I can’t hate you,” He sounds defeated but presses on. “I could never hate you, Tord.”

The demon nods, weary and nervous. “And I could never forget you.”

…

Months pass. Tord puts up his walls. He falls back into his old personality, defaulting to snarky and condescending when he can and just plain mean when the first two don’t work. Tom builds his own, too. He’s mostly quiet now, choosing not to speak much to any other denizens of the complex when he doesn’t have to, keeping to himself and drinking the day away. The two carry on like that for a while, and fall into the old pattern of: arguing, refusing to speak to each other, then making up sometime a few days (or even just hours) later. It’s not the healthiest pattern but it’s theirs.

They work through their issues together as much as they can, even if part of the process of ‘working through it’ involves lots of shouting and arguing. They become known as the loudest residents on the fourteenth floor.

“You guys might want to start keeping it down in the future,” Matt says to the pair over lunch one day. He’s been spending more time with them when he can, knowing that they’re less likely to argue when they’ve got company. “I’m looking to get a roommate as soon as possible.”

Both Tom and Tord look surprised. “Rooming isn’t cheap, and not all of us have bank-robbing money,” Matt points out and the other two nod. “I’m thinking about putting an ad out on Craigslist. I won’t be able to enchant it or anything but the charm on the building should be enough to keep non-paranormals away.”

“It’ll be nice to see some new faces here,” Tord remarks, yawning lazily. “Not to mention that you could use some company that isn’t us.” Tom digs a knuckle into the demon’s rib but agrees.

It’s a little later in the evening, when Tord is scrubbing at the dishes from dinner when Tom brings up the idea of new people in the complex. “What kind of person do you think Matt’s new roomie will be?” The demon hums in thought.

“Hard to tell before they get here.” He pauses, putting the dish he’s working on down and turning to look at Tom. “Why do you ask?”

The human shrugs but looks down at the table in thought. “Just curious.” Tord nods in understanding.

“I’m sure whoever it is will be good if Matt approves of them. He’s a good judge of character.” Tom nods as well and gets up to grab some ice cream. Tord trusted that whoever Matt found and accepted would be someone they could get along with as well. After all, Matt was always trying to find other people for Tom to get along with so he could get some days out of the house.

Yeah, the new resident would probably be pretty swell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, hope you guys liked it!! Sorry it took so long, but look forward to more content for the au later this month. Also, in case you haven't taken a look at it yet, we have a tumblr (monster-apartments-au.tumblr.com) with lots of fanart, previews, and other kinds of inside looks in the world of our AU. Thanks again, as always!!
> 
> -Juju and Casey

**Author's Note:**

> Jujukind: So, I hope you guys liked this latest chapter!! I'm sorry this took a while and not isn't as good as some of our other chapters. Real life has been quite busy these last few days, but we've been having a lot of fun writing for you all and maintaining our blog for this AU! (Monster-Apartments-AU @ tumblr.com). I'd like to personally thank a lot of friends I made in the last few weeks: The EddsChat, my cool-ass Squad, and Dallas (<3)!!! You guys constantly encourage and inspire me when I write, and I honestly wouldn't be here writing for you with Casey without the crazy amounts of support I've gotten from all of you. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoy the next chapter when it comes out!!
> 
> Supercasey: I'm sorry that I didn't write as much of this chapter; school sucks and my tablet is, well, distracting. In short, I contributed next to nothing to this, but, ya know, lmao. Enjoy, kiddos!


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